"^e> a^ 







































■ 







































^ v* 










>\ 






4 







$%, 















^ ^ 



^ ^ 









^ ^, 



/ 












^ ^ 









<- 






*> V 











































^ 













Sixty Years in a School-Room : 

<&H Sutofeiogtfipliy 

OF 

MRS.JULIA A.TEVIS, 

Principal of Science Hill Female Academy, 
to which is prefixed 

An Autobiographical Sketch of Rev. John Teyis. 



i 



1 Here I '11 raise mine Ebenezer, 

Hither, by thy help, I 'm come ; 
And I hope, by thy good pleasure, 
Safely to arrive at home." 




CINCINNATI: 

PRINTED AT THE WESTERN METHODIST BOOK CONCERN. 
1878. 



,^ 1 

M 




Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1878, 

BY WILLIAM M. ROGERS, 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 

\> II 



MY ONLY AND WELL-BELOVED DAUGHTER, 
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 



. 



PREFACE 



Two considerations have prompted the prepa- 
ration of the following Autobiography: First, the 
earnest and oft-repeated request of my dear hus- 
band that I should do so ; second, the hope of 
doing good, by furnishing information and encour- 
agement to those who are engaged, or are about 
to engage, in the responsible and laborious duties 
of teaching, especially to those who have charge 
of female boarding-schools. An experience of fifty 
years in any pursuit .can not fail to bring some 
knowledge which a novice may find valuable. I 
propose no dogmatic theories ; but simply state 
facts, and -give my opinion as suggested by the 
thread of my narrative. As to the value of the 
information thus given, those will judge who take 
the trouble to read what I have written. 

Although accustomed to use the pen all my life, 
this is my first attempt at authorship. I have 
dressed my narrative, as I do my person, accord- 
ing to my own notions of good taste. I no more 
affect a fine style than a fashionable dress. If my 
language is intelligible I am satisfied. The period 
is past when the flippant criticisms of vanity or the 
idle remarks of ignorance could give me real pain. 
I do not despise the opinions of the wise and 



2 Preface. 

good, nor do I covet the applause of the frivolous 
or hypercritical. 

My numerous pupils will doubtless recognize 
many scenes and circumstances here recorded. I 
have not intentionally written one word which 
could wound the feelings of the most sensitive. 
My heart glows with the warmest affection for 
them all, many of whom I have known and loved 
in other relations. Amid the weary toils and 
perplexities incident to the management of a large 
boarding-school I have had much to cheer and 
comfort me, and nothing more than the grateful 
affection of my pupils. 

It seemed to me right and proper that the 
biography of my sainted husband should precede 
my own, not only because he has entered the bet- 
ter land before me, but because he was my leader 
in all things good and useful for thirty-seven years. 
The light of his pure and manly character shone 
like a lamp in my pathway, cheering with its bright 
and steady beam the darkest seasons of our pil- 
grimage. His foot-prints are still luminous, light- 
ing me onward to our long-sought home in heaven. 
Our lives were one in common hopes and labors, 
in common joys and sorrows, bound together in 
the blessings of one home of love ; and now the 
memorials of these lives, bound in one volume — he 
still leading the way — will go forth to the world. 

JULIA A. TEVIS. 
Science Hill, March, 1865. 



CONTENTS. 



gkettfi of f{ev. Joljii ^evi£. 

PAGE. 

Introduction, . 9 

Autobiographical Sketch, 13 

Obituary 36 



$ixty Yekfj=( ii) h $cl]Ool-f{ooin. 

MRS, JULIA A. TEVIS. 
CHAPTER I. 

Birth and Parentage — Reminiscences of Pioneer Life in 

Kentucky, 40 

CHAPTER II. 
First Days in School, 54 

CHAPTER III. 

Mr. Hill's School at Winchester, Va — Berkeley Springs — 

the War of 1812, 67 

CHAPTER IV. 

Removal to Georgetown, D. C. — Incidents of the War of 

1812 81 

CHAPTER V. 

General Sam. Houston— Colonel Posey — Capture of Washing- 
ton City by the British, 91 

CHAPTER VI. 

School of Miss Taylor in Washington — Life in Washing- 
ton in 1815, 107 

3 



4 Contents. 

CHAPTER VII. 

PAGE. 

The School of Mrs. Stone — Recollections of Henry Clay — 

John C. Calhoun — John Randolph — William Wirt, . 117 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Mason and M'Carty Duel — Madame la Comptesse de 

Neuville 130 

CHAPTER IX. 

A Winter in Washington Society — Mrs. Madison — Mrs. Mon- 
roe, 139 

CHAPTER X. 
Reverses — Leave Home and Friends for Wytheville, Va. . 151 

CHAPTER XI. 
School at Wytheville — The Family of General Smyth, . 161 

CHAPTER XII. 
School-life at Wytheville 175 

CHAPTER XIII. 
School-life, continued — First Examination, . . . 184 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Removal to Abingdon, Va. — Entering the Family of Captain 
Smith, of the Meadows, as Governess — Mrs. Russell, the 
Sister of Patrick Henry 194 

CHAPTER XV. 
Life and Characters at the Meadows, 203 

CHAPTER XVI. 
Abingdon Friends — Religious Impressions, .... 214 

CHAPTER XVII. 
The Methodists at Abingdon, 226 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Earnestness and Simplicity of the early Methodists — Joining 
the Church, • . 233 



Contents. 5 

CHAPTER XIX. 

PAGE. 

Camp-meeting at Sulphur Springs — Conversion, . . . 247 

CHAPTER XX. 
Marriage to the Rev. John Tevis, 257 

CHAPTER XXI. 
Continuance at the Meadows — Visit to Mother Russell, . 265 

CHAPTER XXII. 
Leaving Abingdon — Journey to Kentucky, .... 274 

CHAPTER XXIII. 
Return to the Home of My Childhood 285 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

Arrival at Shelbyville— Meeting of Kentucky Conference — 

Kavanaugh — Bascom — Maffit 297 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Mr. Tevis in Charge of the Church at Louisville — Prepar- 
ations for School, 313 

CHAPTER XXVI. 
Science Hill Female Academy Founded, March 25, 1825, . 321 

CHAPTER XXVII. 
The First Session and the First Examination, . . . 327 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 
Management of the School — Religious Training of Pupils, 335 

CHAPTER XXIX. 
Hon. Charles A. Wickliffe — Judge Davidge, . . . 348 

* CHAPTER XXX. 

Bereaved — Conference of 1828 — Bishops M'Kendree, Rob- 
erts, Soule, 355 



6 Contents. 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

PAGE. 

A Pupil "Old Enough to Be Keepin' Company Now" — Re- 
flections Upon Early Training, 367 

CHAPTER XXXII. 
An Adopted Daughter — Early Discipline of Children, . 372 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 
Lancastrian School at Georgetown, D. C. — Ritta, . 391 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

School Friends — Judge Thomas Monroe — Rev. Valentine 

Cook, 400 

CHAPTER XXXV. 
What Should Pupils Learn? — My Mother's Death, . . 412 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 
A Disappointed Music Teacher — An Anecdote, . . 423 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Visit to Blue Licks — the Battle — Trip to Philadelphia, 

with Incidents and Anecdotes, 430 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
The Rose Queen, 453 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Close of the Academic Year of 1839 — A Trip to the Mount- 
ains of Virginia — Thoughts Upon Teachers and Teach- 
ing — An Exemplary Teacher, 460 

CHAPTER XL. 

Pleasant Memories — Amanda and Others, . . . . 471 

1 

CHAPTER XLI. 
Closing Reflections — The Semi-Centennial, .... 479 



AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH 



f(ev. John ^evi^, 



OF THE KENTUCKY CONFERENCE. 



"But God forbid that I should glory, save in the cross of 
our Lord Jesus Christ." — Paul. 



INTRODUCTION. 



The following Autobiography furnishes a brief, but char- 
acteristic, sketch of Mr. Tevis. His friends will see the 
same simple honesty, strong moral sense, and earnest piety, 
which marked his energetic life running through every para- 
graph. To him, "Life was earnest, life was real," and he 
lived and labored in accordance with his convictions. His 
creed was in his heart, and formed the basis of his character. 
Duty, in his vocabulary, was not a conventional term, used 
for the sake of euphony or embellishment, but a word of sol- 
emn signification, implying relations of obligation and respon- 
sibility to God and his fellow-men. It was his guide in all 
things. Theories and adventitious circumstances had little 
influence upon his decisions; and, when a question was once 
decided, action promptly followed. With an ardent and im- 
pulsive temperament, which many make an apology for impet- 
uosity and irregularity, he maintained a consistency and uni- 
formity of Christian conduct seldom seen in ordinary life. 
Over mind and heart, over reason and passion, his conscience 
ruled supreme. This I take to have been the prominent feature 
of his strongly marked character. 

As a business man, but few surpassed him in those qualities 
essential to success in the pursuit or the use of wealth. Clear 
and far-seeing in his perceptions, he was never tempted to 
uncertain speculations, but confined his plans to the simple 
methods of legitimate increase. Strictly honest, to the value 
of a cent, he measured the commercial obligations of others 
by the same standard. He paid his debts with punctuality, 
and collected his dues from others with the same exactness. 



io Introduction. 

His success in managing his extensive and complicated busi- 
ness affairs is the best proof of his qualifications in this respect 

Just and upright in all his business transactions, he was 
equally conscientious and discreet in his charities. The poor 
always found him a friend ; not in word merely, giving good 
advice, and unwilling to give any thing more substantial, but 
a friend indeed, seeking them out, and relieving their necessi- 
ties with a liberal, but provident, hand. Real want never 
appealed to him in vain; indolence and vice seldom deceived 
him. The blessings of the poor followed him to the grave, 
and the benedictions of the widow and orphan descend on his 
memory. He was, by common consent, the guardian of the 
poor in the village where he lived; and many a humble home 
mourned sincerely his death. Could the grateful tears of pov- 
erty avert the desolations of Winter, perpetual Spring would 
bloom round his tomb. 

Mr. Tevis's religious character was strongly marked. His 
religion was not a sentiment, not a creed "fenced round with 
holy texts," but the life of his soul.' He lived "by faith in 
the Son of God." This spiritual life was supported by con- 
stant intercourse with the mercy-seat. He loved the silent 
communion of the closet; and there, with his "Father in 
secret," daily "renewed his strength." The regular and 
prayerful reading and study of the Holy Scriptures was a daily 
habit. The devotional parts of the Scriptures were especially 
his delight. Here his spirit gathered strength for the conflicts 
and labors of life. "Prayer was his native air," his "vital 
breath." The family altar was not a mere "household orna- 
ment," but the shrine where, as priest of the family, he offered 
up morning and evening sacrifices. Like Abraham, he "com- 
manded his children and his household after him;" and while 
he observed himself "the law of the Lord," he required all under 
his authority to do the same. Family worship, observance of the 
Sabbath, and attendance upon the public worship of the sanc- 
tuary were, in his view, matters of the first importance, not to 



Intr OB UCTION. ! i 

be neglected for business, pleasure, or any other consideratton. 
Especially was his respect for the ' ' Sabbath of the Lord " 
worthy of all praise. The servants knew it as a day of rest. 
Cooking was not allowed, except what was absolutely neces- 
sary. Feasting on Sunday, that vice of Christian households, 
was never known under his roof while he was master. 

As a preacher, Mr. Tevis belonged to the old school. 
Thoroughly imbued with the spirit of Wesleyan Methodism, 
he was not only evangelical in his creed, but in his matter and 
manner as a preacher. He believed the Articles of Faith, as 
held by the Methodist Church, to be Scriptural; and he was 
prepared to defend them against all opposers ; not by quota- 
tions from the Fathers, but by the Word of God. Yet, with 
all this, he was very catholic in his feelings, and fraternized 
heartily with all the orthodox denominations, and often filled 
their pulpits with acceptability. He loved all who love the 
Lord Jesus Christ. His personal ministry was greatly blessed. 
His imagination never led him astray from the simplicity of the 
Gospel. He was made presiding elder at a time when only 
the best preachers were appointed to that office. 

He sleeps in Jesus. His grave is situated in one of the 
most lovely spots in Grove Hill Cemetery, near the beautiful 
and quiet village of Shelbyville, Ky. 

W. G. E. C. 

Science Hill, 1865. 



REV. JOHN TEVIS: 

An Autobiographical Sketch. 



Chapter I. 



I was born January 6, 1792, in Baltimore County, Ma- 
ryland. My parents were descended from a reputable 
English ancestry, and were themselves regular and worthy 
communicants in the English Church, previous to the 
American Revolution. One of the earliest recollections 
of my life was family worship on Sabbath, and the regu- 
lar catechetical instruction, not only of the white children, 
but also of all the younger servants in my father's family. 
It is to be regretted that family worship and systematic 
religious instruction of children and servants in the fam- 
ilies of professed Christians should be so much neglected. 
By faithfully discharging these primary duties we fulfill 
the injunction to "train up our children in the nurture 
and admonition of the Lord," and may reasonably expect 
an early development of virtuous and pious principles 
in them. 

My father, with several brothers of my mother, served 
in the Colonial army, in defense of their country. They 
were attached to what was known as the "Maryland 
line." One of my uncles died in the army at White 
Plains. There were many traditional incidents of the 
Revolution treasured in our family. Some of these pos- 



14 Rev. John Tevis. 

sessed more than a mere personal interest, involving as 
they did historical facts connected with the leading events 
of the times. But they are gone, with the thousand 
unwritten stories of suffering and heroism ; gone, with the 
actors, to the darkness and silence of the forgotten past. 

My early education was limited to the elementary 
instruction imparted in a "common school" at that day. 
This would by no means compare with the improved 
system of common-school instruction of the present, but 
extended to little beyond the rudiments of a plain English 
education. It was sufficient, however, for ordinary pur- 
poses, and furnished an active and enterprising mind with 
the knowledge necessary to guide it in all the practical 
duties of life. Education can not create mind, or supply 
energy, but must be chiefly valued as an instrument for 
doing good. The degree requisite for this purpose will 
depend upon the general intelligence of the community, 
and the nature of the pursuit in which one is engaged. 
No person values a good education more than I do, or 
rejoices more in the improved state of our common 
schools. 

My childhood and youth passed rapidly and pleasantly 
away, surrounded by the endearments of a virtuous and 
happy home. From a very early day, serious thoughts 
of my responsibilities as an immortal being deeply im- 
pressed my mind, and many earnest resolutions of 
amendment were formed. Under the influence of a 
sound moral training, and the restraints of a well-regu- 
lated household, I maintained the reputation of a moral 
young man ; and this reputation was not undeserved. 
When about twenty-one years of age, my religious con- 
victions became so strong as to render me at times very 
unhappy. I read the Holy Scriptures with care; also 



A UTOBIO GRAPH Y. 1 5 

some of Dr. Scott's and Dr. Witherspoon's theological 
writings, but never embraced the peculiar views of these 
good men. I could not reconcile the narrowness of the 
Calvinistic creed with the liberal provisions of the Gospel. 
I turned away from the barren theological dogmas of the 
schools to the Word of God, and sought, by prayer and 
study of the Scriptures, to find the path of duty. I did 
not seek in vain; for He who has said, "If any man 
lack wisdom, let him ask of God, and it shall be given 
him," brought me to the "knowledge of the truth as it 
is in Christ Jesus." 

I began, about this time, seriously to consider the 
duty of uniting myself with the Church. While think- 
ing on the subject, and disposed perhaps to defer the 
step, an aged and esteemed friend urged me to immediate 
action. His counsel, seconded by my own convictions of 
duty, led me to join the Methodist Episcopal Church on 
Sabbath, May 9, 18 13. I was not satisfied, at the time, 
that my sins had been forgiven ; but I was sincerely 
seeking that blessing, and believed it to be my duty to 
identify myself with the people of God. I could not 
reasonably ask God to bless me while living in the neg- 
lect of a plain duty. It was a cross thus publicly to 
pledge myself to follow Christ in the communion of a 
people "every-where spoken against," and with whom 
my family had not united. I saw then, as clearly as I 
do now, perhaps, the great responsibilities assumed in 
this act; and I was not ignorant of my own weakness, 
and the consequent danger of "failing of the grace of 
God." But God, I trust, accepted the imperfect offering 
of myself thus made, and, in about four months after, 
made me rejoice in a sense of his pardoning mercy. 
This happy event took place while listening to a plain, 



1 6 Rev. John Tevis. 

but forcible, sermon by Rev. Charles Holliday, from 
Hebrews vi, i: "Let us go on to perfection." As he 
described the blessed change wrought by the Holy Ghost 
in the heart of the penitent believer, he asserted that the 
child of God may know it ; as he repeated with peculiar 
emphasis the declaration, "He knows it through grace," 

I felt 

"That which nothing earthly gives, or can destroy, 
The soul's calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy." 

I felt that God had, for Christ's sake, forgiven my sins — 
had saved me. This was not a transient feeling, but an 
abiding sense of the blessed Comforter's indwelling pres- 
ence, which has cheered me through all the way of my 
forty years' pilgrimage, and is now the solace of my 
declining days. 

According to the custom of Methodists in their social 
meetings at that day, I was called upon to lead in prayer. 
This was a severe trial to most young converts ; but, 
strengthened by the Holy Spirit and a fixed determina- 
tion to do all my duty so far as I could, "the yoke was 
easy, and the burden light." The family altar had long 
been erected in my father's house, and I was now required 
to assist in domestic worship. This, though at first 
embarrassing, was a great blessing to me, and, I hope, 
profitable to the family. I was thus early introduced 
into the way in which it was God's will I should travel 
the remainder of my life. The thought, however, of 
becoming a minister did not seriously enter my mind for 
the first year after my conversion. I did not choose it 
as a profession ; I entered it from a sense of duty. 

In April, 1814, my religion was brought to the test 
by a severe illness, which reduced me to the verge of the 
grave. At one time my recovery was despaired of, and 



A UTOBIO GRAPH Y. 1 -j 

I prepared to meet death ; and such was my faith and 
hope in God that I ardently desired to depart and be 
with Christ. Death had lost its terrors, and the joys of 
heaven so entranced my heart that I had no wish to re- 
main where I might prove unfaithful to the grace already 
given. I was mercifully restored to health again, and 
with it increased convictions of duty possessed my mind. 
I felt willing to do whatever God in his providence might 
appoint as my work. An opportunity to try the sincer- 
ity of this purpose was soon afforded. Without my 
knowledge, I was appointed to take a list of the taxable 
property in one of the districts of Shelby County.* This 
of course enlarged the circle of my acquaintance, and 
presented frequent opportunities to converse on the sub- 
ject of religion, and pray with the families where I spent 
the nights while canvassing the district. I thank God he 
gave me grace to acknowledge him under these new and 
peculiar circumstances. I prayed in families where such 
a thing had perhaps never been seen before. My own 
soul was refreshed and strengthened, and I trust some 
good done to others. It was, as I now see, a providential 
preparation for the work in which I was about to engage. 
About the time I finished my labor on the district as 
assessor, Rev. Wm. Adams appointed me leader of a 
class which met some four miles from Shelbyville. I en- 
tered upon the delicate duties of this responsible office 
with fear and much self-distrust; but found in this, as in 
all other instances of severe trial, strength and comfort 
imparted. I soon learned that to be happy I must strive 
to be useful. 



* Mr. Tevis's family moved from Maryland to Kentucky, in 1808. 
They settled at first in Bullitt County, but subsequently removed to 
Shelby County, where he died. — w. G. E. c. 



1 8 Rev. John Tevis. 

Near the close of this year the Shelbyville class, of 
which I was a member, recommended me for license to 
exhort. I accepted, with the belief that if it were God's 
will to use me in this way he would make it known in 
the humble attempt to do my duty. I asked the presid- 
ing elder what evidence I might expect as proof that I 
was in the path of duty in this matter. He replied : 
" Go forward cheerfully; accept every invitation to hold 
meetings; and, if you are in the right path, your own 
soul will be blessed and the cause of God advanced by 
your labors." This I take to be wise counsel. One of 
the first questions asked by Mr. Wesley of those who 
professed to be called to preach was, "Have you fruits?" 
This he explained by another question, "Are any con- 
verted under your preaching?" This is God's seal to his 
own ministry. After receiving license as an exhorter, I 
was strongly solicited to assist Rev. W. Adams on the 
Salt River Circuit. But the time had not fully come for 
me to enter upon this important work. My mind was 
thus gradually being prepared to leave all for the cause 
of Christ in the blessed ministry of the Gospel. Often, 
in seasons of spiritual elevation, when my heart was filled 
with a tender desire for the salvation of souls, I felt it 
was clearly my duty to preach; but again, in seasons of 
mental depression, a fear would interpose lest this should 
all be only the heat of my own imagination, "sparks of 
my own kindling." I, however, committed myself to the 
"fiery and cloudy pillar;" that is, tried to follow the 
indications of God's providence with a cheerful and sub- 
missive spirit. My time was spent in studying the Holy 
Scriptures, prayer, and visiting for the purpose of relig- 
ious conversation ; seeking, by discharging present duties, 
to prepare myself for whatever future labors God might 



Autobiography. 19 

appoint me. My beloved spiritual adviser, Rev. W. 
Adams, urged me to commence immediately the itinerant 
ministry, by joining him on his circuit. His influence, 
supported by the growing convictions of my own mind, 
induced me to yield, so far as to consent to make the trial. 
It now became necessary to consult my father, who 
had designed to make me the farmer of the family, my 
brothers all having engaged in other pursuits. I knew it 
would be a severe trial to him to see me enter upon the 
work of a Methodist traveling preacher; but I also knew 
that his circumstances rendered my presence and labor at 
home comparatively unimportant, and that he was too 
good a man to seriously oppose me in what I sincerely 
believed to be my duty. He thought some previous 
literary and theological training necessary before entering 
the ministry. This I did not possess, at least in the de- 
gree which he deemed requisite. My convictions, how- 
ever, would not suffer me to give up the work in which 
my heart was now enlisted. My father reluctantly gave 
his consent, fearing, no doubt, as I did, the possibility 
of a failure. 



Rev. John Tevis. 



Chapter II. 

Having settled the question in my own mind, that I 
ought to give myself wholly to the work of an 
itinerant preacher, and having obtained the consent of 
my father, I now began to make preparation to join the 
preacher- in -charge on the Salt River Circuit. On the 
ioth day of March, 1815, all was ready, and the next day 
I was on the circuit. I remained but a few days on this 
work, when I was transferred to Shelby and Jefferson Cir- 
cuits. Here the life of a traveling preacher began prop- 
erly with me, and from this I date my itinerant career. 

On leaving home, my father gave me his purse, 
from which I took three dollars. With this small sum, a 
good horse, saddle, saddle-bags, and a supply of cloth- 
ing, a Bible, hymn-book, Discipline, Wesley's Notes, 
and the portraiture of St. Paul, as my entire "outfit," I 
began life. The Shelby and Jefferson Circuits had been 
united, and preaching at each appointment once in three 
weeks was changed to preaching every two weeks. 

Revs. Thomas D. Porter and William M'Mahon had 
been the preachers on this work — both very popular with 
the people. They were excellent preachers — but few 
better. My first effort in this work was made under 
unfavorable circumstances. A large congregation had 
assembled to hear brother M'Mahon. I did the best I 
could, however. My youth and inexperience appealed 
strongly to the sympathies of the people, and, I doubt 
not, they bore the disappointment with as much patience 



A UTOBIC GRAPH Y. 2 r 

as could be reasonably expected. I preached with much 
greater liberty a few weeks afterward to a small congre- 
gation at the same place. I spent the remainder of the 
year on this circuit, sometimes greatly comforted, and 
often much depressed in spirit; but, I can say, that from 
the beginning of my ministerial life to this present time 
my victories over self and circumstances have all been 
obtained through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. 

The Conference met this year at Lebanon, Ohio. I 
was received on trial into the "traveling connection" at 
this session, and appointed to the Lexington (Kentucky) 
Circuit, with the Rev. Thomas D. Porter as preacher - 
in -charge. I received this, my first regular appoint- 
ment, from that apostle of American Methodism, Bishop 
Asbury. But little apparent success attended our labors 
this year. God only knows what good was done. 

I was comforted by an affectionate letter from my 
father during the year, stating, he no longer objected 
to my course, but expressed the hope that I would 
persevere and do much good. He offered me any pecun- 
iary assistance I might need. 

At the next session of the Conference, which was held 
in the city of Louisville, Kentucky, I was sent to the Salt 
Creek Circuit, Ohio. This was a large circuit lying east 
of the Scioto River, embracing Portsmouth, Piketon, 
New Richmond, and the Scioto Salt Works. There were 
some twenty appointments, which I visited every three 
weeks. The largest congregation on the circuit was at 
the old Scioto Salt Works, where were many worthy 
Christians, whom I hope to meet in a better world. Rev. 
David Young was my presiding elder. He took me to 
his quarterly -meeting in Chillicothe, and, to my surprise, 
put me up to preach at eleven o'clock on Sabbath. 



22 Rev. John Tevis. 

Several preachers were present, some of them men of 
reputation — such as Beauchamp, Scott, Hinde, Dr. Tiffin, 
and others. Unexpected and strange as it was to be 
thus put forward, it pleased God to aid me, so that I 
have seldom preached with more comfort to myself or 
visible effect on the congregation than on this occasion. 

While on this circuit I learned something of the hard- 
ships which the early settlers in the West had to endure. 
Many of them were poor families from Virginia, North 
Carolina, and Pennsylvania, with but little education or 
skill in the art of living. The forests were dense, and 
the labor necessary to open a farm was so great, that few 
did more than clear away a small "patch," on which they 
managed to raise a scanty subsistence. Among them 
were many sincere Christians, whose liberality in opening 
their houses for preaching, that their neighbors might 
hear the Gospel, was worthy of all praise. 

About ninety persons were added to the Church this 
year, one or two of whom have since filled his mission as 
a minister of the Gospel. The year was altogether a 
pleasant and, I trust, profitable one. It was full enough 
of trial and full of mercy — many happy seasons which I 
shall never forget. 

Having closed the year's labors, I visited my father 
and friends in Kentucky, and then attended the Annual 
Conference, which met in Zanesville, Ohio. Here I was 
ordained deacon by Bishop R. R. Roberts, and received 
into "full connection" as a traveling preacher. This 
year, 1817,* I was appointed to Zanesville Circuit, with 



«This must refer to the end of 1817, when the Conference met in 
the Autumn or Winter, for, according to the law of the Church, he 
could not be ordained deacon until he had traveled two years. He 
joined on probation at the end of 1815. — W. G. E. C. 



Autobiography. 23 

Rev. Samuel Glades as my assistant. Brother Glades 
was a deeply pious young man, of good mind and stu- 
dious habits. His course was soon finished; he laid down 
the cross for a crown only a few years after this, when 
with me on the Zanesville Circuit. 

This period was one of labor and trial. We toiled to 
cultivate an apparently barren soil. Our presiding elder 
was the good, the venerable Jacob Young, much beloved 
and honored in the Church. The infirmities of age, 
blindness, and feebleness are now rapidly carrying him to 
his last home. His sun, though shaded by a cloud, 
shines brightly, and promises a glorious setting. 

The Annual Conference met for the year 18 18 in 
Steubenville, Ohio. Here I saw, for the first time, that 
extraordinary man, Asa Shinn, and heard him preach an 
able sermon on the text, "If any man love not the Lord 
Jesus Christ," etc. He was a strong man in argument 
and apt in illustration, more impressive usually than 
reasoning with the multitude. He lived long enough, as 
he said to an old friend, to be "heartily tired of reform, 
both in Church and State." This was saying a good 
deal for one who had spent his life trying to "reform" 
what he could not improve. I have read few books with 
more pleasure than his "Plan of Salvation;" but his 
second work, on "The Divine Being," was a failure; he 
promised more than he performed. He was, in some 
respects, a great man. 

I was sent this year to Columbus, one of the best 
circuits in the Conference. My colleague this year 
was Rev. Leroy Swormstedt, a man whom I loved and 
still love for his goodness. We labored harmoniously 
together, and under the divine blessing with much suc- 
cess, especially in the city of Columbus. Some sixty 



24 Rev. John Tevis. 

persons were added to the city society. In this place 
were some of God's most precious children. Here lived 
old brother M'Cormack, a pillar and an ornament to the 
Church; and Mother Rathbone, whose son we this year 
received into the Church, and who has been, for many 
years, a traveling preacher in the Kentucky Conference. 
On one occasion this excellent woman said to me: "I 
know not why my Heavenly Father continues my life, 
for I have lived as long as I desired; I have seen all my 
children brought into the Church." But she waited 
patiently for the salvation of God, and finally attained her 
crown. This circuit included the town of Delaware, at 
that time a small place. I think it probable that brother 
Swormstedt and myself were the first preachers who ever 
called the sinners of this place to repentance. I would 
like to visit it now to see what the Lord has done for 
it since our day there. 

In 1 8 19,* the Annual Conference met in Cincinnati, 
Ohio. Bishop George presided. This beloved shepherd 
was held in great veneration by the whole Church. He 
died at Staunton, Virginia, in 1828. I was ordained 
elder this year, and returned to Columbus Circuit, with a 
young man as my assistant. Rev. J. Collins was my 
presiding elder. He was a good man, a father in the 
Church, and one of my best friends. He was well 
qualified for the office, one of the most influential in the 
whole economy of Methodism. Wise in counsel, kind 
in manner, and energetic in action, he was always a 
favorite with the preachers under him. As a preacher he 
had but few superiors — not many equals. 



*The date of the year 1818 is entirely omitted. He was ordained 
elder at this Conference in due course, having traveled four years. — 
vv. g. E. c. 



A UTOBIOGRAPHY. 



25 



I was present at the General Conference of 1820, 
which met in the city of Baltimore, though not a dele- 
gate. I saw the working of the "radical" element, 
which resulted after the Pittsburg Conference, in 1828, in 
the separation of the "Methodist Protestant" from the 
Methodist Episcopal Church. At this General Confer- 
ence it was determined to create a Kentucky Annual 
Conference out of parts of the Ohio and Tennessee 
Conferences. After attending the Ohio Conference at 
Chillicothe, I returned to Kentucky, intending to join 
this new Conference, I attended the session of the Ten- 
nessee Conference, which met shortly after my return, 
at Hopkinsville, Kentucky. Bishop Roberts, who was 
expected to preside, did not arrive, and Rev. Marcus 
Lindsay was elected chairman. I was solicited to take 
charge of the Holston District, in the Tennessee Confer- 
ence. This was, by no means, according to my plans or 
wishes. I had been traveling but five years, and dis- 
trusted my qualifications for such a position, I earnestly 
asked to be excused if any other arrangement could be 
made. But Father Holliday came to me the second 
time to urge my compliance, which resulted in my saying, 
' ' I can go anywhere the Conference may please to send 
me." I had spent four years in the North-west; I was 
now sent to the South-east. But it is little matter to a 
Methodist preacher where the path of duty may lead 
him, comforted by the promise, "Lo I am with you 
alway, even to the end of the world." 



26 Rev. John Tevis. 



Chapter III. 

I was now about to undertake the responsibilities of a 
new office, among a strange people. I had no ac- 
quaintance with the country, preachers, or people ; but 
every faithful minister has a better passport than a con- 
ference or bishop can give him, even "the Spirit of the 
Lord resting upon him." I was kindly received, and all 
endeavored to hold up my feeble hands and cheer me 
in my work. A gracious revival of religion prevailed 
throughout the district. Rev. Jesse Cunnyngham, father 
of Rev. W. G. E. Cunnyngham, now missionary to China, 
had evinced considerable tact and judgment in selecting 
preachers to fill the different circuits; for, after all that 
may be said and done, the presiding elders make most 
of the appointments. I had a corps of zealous young 
men who had given themselves to the work of the min- 
istry. They read their Bibles, prayed much, and preached 
earnestly, and with great acceptability generally. Many 
souls were converted and brought into the Church through 
their instrumentality. I tried to retain some of them in 
the district as long as I was on it. I think, during the 
four years, there was a net increase of four thousand 
members within the bounds of the district. This would 
have been considered a large increase in any part of the 
country, but especially large for South-western Virginia, 
North Carolina, and East Tennessee. This glorious 
revival was instrumental in raising up many young men 
of gifts and grace for the ministry; and the Methodist 



A UTOBIO GRAPH Y. 27 

Church has continued to prosper in that country ever 
since, notwithstanding the "gates of hell" have raged 
against it. There was one young man of extraordinary 
gifts, who shall be nameless here. From a seat in the 
General Conference he found a seat in Congress. Thus, 
preferring the honor which cometh from man to the honor 
which cometh from God, he has lost both in the ruins of 
apostasy. Let young men remember that pride and van- 
ity lead only to ruin. God is not mocked. Vengeance 
will sooner or later overtake the man who sells his com- 
mission as a minister for the empty honors or guilty gains 
of worldly ambition. Alas, poor man! He is now with 
Judas. But there were others, good and true men, who 
have proved faithful through the trials of thirty years. 
Rev. William Patton, of a Presbyterian family, began to 
preach, I think, in 1822. He labored long and faith- 
fully in the Missouri Conference, but has gone to his 
glorious reward in heaven. George Horn, David Flem- 
ing, Josiah Rhoton, Creed Fulton, and Elbert F. Sevier 
were good and faithful men. Brothers Sevier and Fulton, 
the first from Washington County, East Tennessee, and 
the latter from Grayson County, Virginia, were very 
promising young men, and have fulfilled the promise. 
Creed Fulton, as agent for Emory and Henry College, 
did much for the Church and the cause of education in 
the Holston Conference. The establishment of this col- 
lege was a most successful enterprise. It was very fortu- 
nate in its first president, Rev. Charles Collins, a man 
admirably qualified for the place and the times. Previ- 
ous to the establishment of this college, South-western 
Virginia, East Tennessee, and Western North Carolina 
were peculiarly destituts of educational facilities. When 
I visited Emory and Henry College, in 1848, more than 



28 Rev. John Tevis. 

two hundred young men had gone forth from its halls to 
become teachers, etc. 

Sanctified learning is the great instrument of social 
improvement; that is, a literature imbued with the pure 
morality of the Gospel not only elevates but refines soci- 
ety. Education which includes a knowledge of "the 
truth as it is in Jesus" furnishes the best safeguard 
against social and political anarchy. 

Our most prosperous year on the Holston District 
was 1823. This year seventeen hundred members were 
added to the Church. Among the number was a young 
lady who was acting as preceptress to Miss Mary Smith, 
near Abingdon, Virginia, and to whom I was united in 
the bonds of matrimony on the 9th of March, 1824. In 
no case has the saying of the wise man, in Proverbs 
xxxi, 12, been more literally fulfilled: "She will do him 
good, and not evil, all the days of her life." 

During the revival, this year, a gifted young man by 
the name of O. Ross, living in Jonesboro, was happily 
converted, and in the course of a few years became one 
of the most eloquent and popular preachers in the Ken- 
tucky Conference. He died young, but in the triumphs 
of the Christian faith. 

Methodism has met with unreasonable opposition 
every-where. Bad men have hated and persecuted it, 
because it reproved the depraved customs and maxims 
of an ungodly world. Some good men have opposed it, 
because it differed from the theology and ecclesiastical 
economy of their own Churches. In the Holston District 
we were called upon to "contend earnestly for the faith 
once delivered to the saints," and I believe the truth 
"mightily prevailed." 

At the session of the Tennessee Conference which 



Autobiography. 29 

met at Huntsville, Alabama, in 1823, I was elected a 
delegate to the General Conference which was to be held 
in Baltimore, Maryland, May, 1824. "Radicalism," as 
it was called, had agitated the Church on the ' ' Presiding 
Elder" question, and trouble was anticipated at this 
Conference. The storm, however, was not as furious as 
was expected. Bishops Soule and Hedding were elected 
at this session of the General Conference. I voted once 
for my old friend, Beauchamp ; but, being satisfied that 
the peace of the Church would be promoted by the elec- 
tion of a Northern man, I gave my vote to E. Hedding, 
and I have seen no cause to regret it. 

At this time I saw and heard the great and good 
Summerfield, both in the pulpit and on the missionary 
platform. His appearance was the most angel-like I ever 
saw. His preaching was "in power and demonstration 
of the Holy Ghost." 

Having married in March of this year, and my four 
years on the Holston District at an end, I asked and 
received a transfer to the Kentucky Conference. I was 
stationed in the city of Louisville, Kentucky, where a 
spirit of discord had well-nigh ruined the early prospects 
of Methodism. A remnant had been left of humble, 
faithful ones, especially among the female part of the 
congregation. A change for the better was soon per- 
ceptible, but it was a hard year. 

3 



30 Rev. John Tevis. 



Chapter IV. 

I have now arrived at a period in my narration where 
an important event, the opening of Science Hill 
Female Academy, gave a new direction to my life and 
labors, and determined the local fortunes of my family. 
My dear wife, whom I found in Virginia (as Miss Julia 
A. Hieronymous), engaged in teaching, wished to con- 
tinue an employment for which she was unusually well 
qualified. A good Protestant school was much needed. 
Roman Catholic schools had secured and, in some cases, 
nearly monopolized public patronage, because professing 
to be cheaper than the Protestant schools. Young ladies 
of Protestant families, educated in Romish institutions 
of learning, returned to their parents thoroughly imbued 
with Romanism. I believe the founding of Science Hill 
Academy was providential, and its long and prosperous 
career seems sufficient proof of this. It was opened in 
March, 1825, and has continued uninterruptedly to the 
present (1857), having now two hundred and thirty stu- 
dents. How often, in reviewing the last thirty-two years, 
I have felt the truth of the promise, "Seek first the king- 
dom of God, and his righteousness, and all these things 
shall be added unto you." We have enjoyed the pleasure 
of much temporal prosperity and domestic comforts. We 
have been honored as instruments of God in doing good, 
in diffusing useful knowledge, and in winning souls to 
Christ. To God be all the glory! 

For the two Conference years of 1826 and 1827 I was 



A UTOBIO GRAPH Y. 3 1 

stationed at Shelbyville and Brick Chapel, spending much 
of my time in the school-room. I did not, however, 
neglect my pastoral work or reading and study prepara- 
tory to my pulpit labors. Previous to my connection 
with the school, but few persons lived more entirely free 
from worldly cares and anxieties. I gave myself to one 
work, and found that work enough for all my energies. 
Although teaching useful knowledge is a good work, and 
next to preaching the Gospel, yet I conscientiously think 
no man should, except under peculiar circumstances, con- 
nect any secular employment with his ministerial labors. 

In 1827 the Annual Conference elected me a delegate 
to the General Conference, which met in the city of 
Pittsburg, Pennsylvania. "The Radicals" again made an 
effort to affect a change in our ecclesiastical economy, 
but failed. There were disaffected ministers; but few of 
the people really sympathized with the cry of "oppres- 
sion" and "reform." At this session the Canada Meth- 
odists were authorized to form themselves into an inde- 
pendent Church. This separation has proved a blessing, 
while the Protestant Methodist has scarcely maintained a 
feeble existence. 

The leading man at this session of the General Con- 
ference was the good and great Emory, afterwards Bishop 
Emory, of precious memory. When he rose to speak all 
gave attention, and some one said, "Emory not only 
gives the usual number of reasons for an opinion, but 
some eight or ten more." He seldom failed to carry his 
point. Radicalism received its death from the heavy 
blows of this giant. 

For several years I received an appointment from the 
Annual Conference to Science Hill Female Academy, 
which was taken under the patronage of the Kentucky 



3 2 Re v. John Te i vs. 

Annual Conference. In 1832 I was again elected a dele- 
gate to the General Conference, which met in Phila- 
delphia, Pennsylvania. At this Conference Revs. John 
Emory and James 0. Andrew were elected to the epis- 
copacy — men eminently qualified to fill that high and 
holy position in the Church of Christ. 

One of the most important measures at this General 
Conference was the sending of our excellent brother Mel- 
ville B. Cox to the benighted coast of Africa as a mis- 
sionary. We saw "Ethiopia stretching out her hands 
to God;" it was with some fear that we attempted to 
respond to the call which all seemed plainly to hear. 
We had but little means, and we knew the expenses 
would be great. While these things were under discus- 
sion, brother Cox pleaded so earnestly, saying, "Here 
I am, send me," that we felt it must be God's will, and 
the question was settled. He left us to "go far hence 
to the Gentiles," "to preach the Gospel to the poor, to 
proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the 
prison doors to those who were bound." He went forth 
weeping, bearing precious seed, which has brought forth 
fruit abundantly to the glory of God. "He fell at his 
post," "far from home and the friends of his youth;" 
but he fell with his armor on, and his face to the foe. 
How gloriously such men die! What a legacy of faith, 
love, and zeal they bequeath to the Church ! 

After having received regular appointments from the 
Ohio, Tennessee, and Kentucky Conferences, since the 
year 181 5, my brethren, from the best of motives, and 
properly, as I believe, gave me a "superannuated rela- 
tion" in the Kentucky Conference. This position, in a 
Methodist Conference, is not considered a degradation, 
but an honorable discharge from the active duties of the 



Autobiography. 33 

itinerancy, and may be employed with credit and great 
usefulness; and now, after a period spent in this relation, 
as long as that spent in actual itinerant labors, I can 
confidently affirm that I have strictly adhered to the first 
principles of Methodism in this matter. I have never 
lost my love for its doctrines and Discipline, or my faith 
in the efficiency of its ecclesiastical economy. Its itin- 
erancy I believe to be better adapted than any other 
system of ministerial economy to "spread Scriptural 
holiness" throughout the world. 

The "local" ministry of the Methodist Church has 
done much to establish Methodism in the Land. The 
"traveling" preachers were evangelists in their labors, 
and pastors properly in office, but, from the necessities 
of their work, unable to give much personal supervision 
to the details of the pastorate. They were therefore 
dependent upon the local preachers and class-leaders for 
the care of the Churches in their absence. The local 
preachers also "pioneered" the way into neighborhoods 
where the traveling preachers could not go, and many 
districts of country were supplied with Sunday preach- 
ing that would otherwise have been left without the 
Word of Life. While sustaining the superannuated rela- 
tion, which is practically that of a local preacher, I have 
endeavored to improve my time and talents in the vine- 
yard of the Lord as a minister; and now, when my day 
of labor is near its close, I can truly say that I have 
enjoyed much comfort in my ministrations. I should 
have preferred active ministerial relation to the Con- 
ference. It was in my heart to live and die in the 
itinerancy; but God willed it otherwise, and I am con- 
tent, believing that all things have been ordered for 
the best. 



34 Rev. John Tevis. 

March io, 1858. The ninth and tenth days of this 
month are anniversaries of the most memorable events in 
my life. On the ninth day of March, 1824, which was 
also the anniversary of my father's birth, I was united in 
the bonds of holy matrimony with my dear wife, who 
still lives, to enjoy life and cheer me with her love and 
companionship. We have traveled, long and pleasantly, 
the path of life together. Our way has been "ordered" 
by the Lord. All our changes have been of his appoint- 
ment, and we can truly say, "Goodness and mercy have 
followed us all the days of our lives." God has bestowed 
worldly goods upon us — given us friends and children ; 
for all which I sincerely thank him. 

The 10th day of March, 18 15, I left my father's house 
to become a wandering messenger of mercy to my fellow- 
men. For nine years I "gladly wandered to and fro," 
pitching my moving tent among strangers. I do not 
regret the choice I made of a profession. I thank God 
that he "thought me worthy, putting me into the min- 
istry." I regret that my labors have not been tenfold 
more abundant, but nothing painful disturbs the tran- 
quillity of this review. One feeling pervades my whole 
being: it is profound gratitude to God for all his mani- 
fold mercy to me and mine. 

" O, to grace how great a debtor 
Daily I 'm constrained to be ! 
Let thy goodness, like a fetter, 
Bind my wandering heart to thee." 

As the evening of life draws on, and the infirmities 
of age press upon me, my thoughts turn more towards 
the future — towards my eternal home. Age has brought 
infirmities and decay upon my body, but no decay affects 
my faith in God or hope in immortality. My spiritual 



Autobiography. 35 

enjoyments were never greater than at this present time. 
"Thanks be to God, who giveth us the victory through 
our Lord Jesus Christ." "Unto him that loved us, and 
washed us from our sins in his own blood; to him be 
glory and dominion for ever and ever. Amen." 



©intuarg. 

In 1857 Mr. Tevis suffered a slight stroke of paralysis, 
from which, however, he so far recovered after a few 
few months, as to be able to go about; and, in 1859, 
attended the session of the Kentucky Annual Confer- 
ence. His feeble health alarmed his friends, and strongly 
admonished him that his end was drawing near. Still 
hope comforted his anxious family with the promise of 
returning health and strength; but the summons had 
been issued, and in August, i860, the angel of death 
again smote him, prostrating mind and body. His power 
of articulation was limited to monosyllables, and that 
in an under tone. For several months previous to his 
release from sorrow and suffering, he was confined entirely 
to the bed. It is cause of thankfulness that, though 
helpless and speechless, he suffered but little pain. He 
slept sweetly every night, as an infant in its mother's 
arms. Thus peacefully and quietly the angels carried 
him down to the margin of the dark river, which he 
crossed on the 26th day of January, 1861, aged sixty- 
nine years and twenty days. 

He received the holy communion on the Sabbath pre- 
ceding his death, and at this Last Supper seemed to "eat 
and drink after a heavenly and spiritual manner." Thus 
died one of the best men in the land. 

"Servant of God, well done! 
Rest from thy loved employ; 
The battle fought, the victory won, 
Enter thy Master's joy." 

W. G. E. C. 



$ixty Yek^ h\ k grfliool-ffaont. 



Autobiography 



OF 



MRS. JULIA A. TEVIS. 



StitoMo^kpliy 

OF 

MRS. JULIA A. TEVIS, 

Witl} fjemiitij&ende^ of $ixty Yeai^ in. a 0dl)ool-f(oon\. 



Chapter I. 

I have arrived at that period of life from which I can 
look back with a calm and grateful heart upon the 
various and shifting scenes through which I have passed ; 
and I now undertake to record, for the gratification of my 
family and immediate friends, the recollections so clearly 
and deeply impressed upon my memory. I begin the 
review under a profound sense of God's goodness, which 
has rendered every trial, thus far encountered in the 
journey of life, subservient to my everlasting welfare. I 
can not doubt that the peace of mind which sustained me 
under the most sorrowful bereavements, and the sweet, 
calm sunshine that now warms and cheers my heart, are 
pledges of that perfect rest after which my longing soul 
aspires, and into which I hope to enter through the merits 
of my gracious Redeemer. 

Guided by a conscientious fidelity to truth in every 
particular, a charitable regard for the opinions and feel- 
ings of all who may be in any way interested in what I 
say, and with a fervent prayer for divine assistance, I 
commence my narrative. 



40 Julia A. Tevis. 

I was born December 5, 1799, in Clarke County, 
Kentucky. My grand-parents, on both sides, were among 
the earliest emigrants from Virginia into this State. 
Their location in the vicinity of Boonesboro brought 
them into familiar intercourse and companionship with 
Daniel Boone; and my maternal grandfather, Ambrose 
Bush, with his four brothers, were among the most cele- 
brated of the old "Indian fighters." Their numerous 
descendants were scattered over so large a portion of 
Clarke County as to give it the name of "Bush's Settle- 
ment." Thrifty and respectable farmers, they occupied a 
position in society both honorable and useful. The same 
may be said of my father's ancestors, who were Germans, 
as the name Hieronymous will suggest. 

My paternal grandfather, with an elder brother, came 
to America before the Revolutionary War, and settled 
in the eastern part of Virginia. They were from Vienna, 
and thoroughly German in many respects; particularly in 
an obstinacy of character, which evinced itself in firmness 
of purpose and industrious habits. My grandmother was 
also of German descent, though born in America. The 
brother of my grandfather returned to Germany at the 
close of the Revolutionary War to get possession of their 
portion of their father's estate. He turned into money 
what he obtained in Germany, set sail for America, and, 
after many reverses, encountering storm and tempest 
during a long, disastrous voyage, reached home. But a 
change had come over his spirit; for, as the story goes, he 
spoke not a word to any one for fourteen years after his 
return. A few days before his death he exclaimed, as he 
fired a pistol from his window, "The devil's in fourteen." 
The reason why my queer old uncle should have thus re- 
tired within himself, no one could ever tell; but conjecture 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 41 

said, he had been crossed in his German love, or else had 
lost his chest of money in coming over the seas. The idea 
of crossing the ocean at that time, on a steamship, would 
have been as much ridiculed as the Irish gentleman's prop- 
osition to go hunting by the steam of his own tea-kettle. 

My grandfather's perverseness was often exhibited in 
taking his saddle-bags on his shoulders when he went 
to town, and leading his horse; or taking off his shoes 
and stockings, and wading the Kentucky River Avhen it 
was low, that his horse might not have the trouble of 
carrying him over. My father's name was Pendleton, 
and the name of one of his brothers, Benjamin; but my 
grandfather, disdaining even to make the effort to speak 
plain English, — though, it was said, he spoke Avell several 
European languages — would always call my father "Ben- 
dleton," and my uncle "Penny." One of his amia- 
bilities was to walk over my tidy grandmother's nicely 
waxed floors with his muddy shoes, chuckling with de- 
light at the discomfiture of the maid-servant, as she fol- 
lowed him with a floor-cloth by my grandmother's orders. 
He was very fond of hunting, frequently shouldering his 
shot-gun in the morning, and wandering for hours through 
the avoocIs squirrel hunting, followed only by a little boy. 
When he saw a squirrel at which he intended to take 
aim, he invariably set his gun down while he took a pinch 
of snuff; meanwhile talking to the squirrel: "Joost you 
stay there till I takes mine binch of snuff, and den I 
prings you down, be sure, mit te teufel to ye." The 
squirrel did not wait, of course ; and the fact is, he was 
never known to bring any game home with him, though 
he expended much powder and shot. 

My grand-parents, on my mother's side, were as En- 
glish as those on the other side were German. My 



42 Julia A. Tevis. 

Grandmother Bush was a strictly pious Baptist ; my 
grandmother Hieronymus, a Methodist of the old school, a 
real Wesleyan, thoroughly and decidedly religious. Alas, 
we seldom meet with such now! My soul longingly in- 
quires for the old paths, that I ma)- walk therein. I 
remember my grandmother Bush more distinctly, as much 
of my time between the ages of four and seven was spent 
with her. Like gleams of light come up now my joyous 
Saturday evenings and Sundays at the old homestead, and 
the many dear, merry, warm-hearted cousins, with whom 
I so often played "Mrs. Bush," or "Lady come to 
see" — the Bushes being so numerous that we had no idea 
but that they filled the world. Our world they did fill. 
I can even now see, in the dim, shadowy distance, 
the tall, queenly form of my grandmother, simply attired 
in a dove-colored dress and plain white kerchief, with a 
cap faultless in shape, and of snowy whiteness, setting 
off the most benevolent of features. I can hear her quick 
step, and sweet voice calling, "Jennie, Julia, Esther, 
Polly!" — her four daughters; for when she wanted one 
she never failed to call them all over before she could 
get the right name. And from habitual quickness of 
thought, word, and action, she often made a laughable 
pell-mell of words. When she called for her black mare 
to be saddled — for every body rode on horseback in those 
days, there being nothing more than bridle-paths — it was, 
"Warrick, run up the black mare, bring down the back- 
stairs, and put my saddle on it; quick, quick, for I must 
go to Sister Franky's right away." And how often have 
I ridden to the stone meeting-house behind her on that 
same black mare, and walked over and around the church- 
yard where now my beloved grand-parents lie buried, 
with many of their descendants! 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 43 

Grandfather was often away from home, on the "war- 
path," for days and weeks at a time. During his absence 
my grandmother kept her little ones about her, and never 
failed to commend them to God in family prayer, night 
and morning. She was gifted with a fine voice, and I 
never heard her sing any thing but hymns. Often have 
I heard my mother relate thrilling stories about Indians, 
panthers, and wolves, that came stealthily around the 
solitary dwellings, their approach undiscovered, in conse- 
quence of the dense cane-brake, until their gleaming 
eyes, peering through the unchinked walls, aroused the 
family to a terrible consciousness of danger. But never 
did they seem able to molest that charmed circle within, 
guarded as it was by constant prayer. Indians would 
steal the horses, and fly ; wild beasts found some other 
prey, and departed. 

At the time that my grandfather, with his brothers 
and sister, came to Kentucky, many families traveled to- 
gether for mutual safety and protection against the Indians, 
whose hunting-grounds extended to the border settle- 
ments of Virginia. On their way through the wilderness 
they encountered bears, buffaloes, wolves, wild-cats, and 
sometimes herds of deer. Thus they moved cautiously 
onward, in long lines, through a narrow bridle-path, so 
encumbered with brush and underwood as to impede 
their progress, and render it necessary that they should 
sometimes encamp for days, in order to rest their weary 
pack-horses and forage for themselves. 

A space of country that can be passed over now in 
less than ten days, leisurely, was then a journey of many 
weeks, and sometimes months. I have heard interesting 
anecdotes related connected with the emigration of my 
grandfather's family through this wilderness. When they 



44 Julia A. Tevis. 

tarried, even for a day or a night, pickets were thrown 
out, and every pass was guarded vigilantly, lest haply 
some lurking foe might invade the camp. None dared 
to speak aloud, and generally the horses' feet were muf- 
fled, for fear of attracting attention. No camp-fires were 
lighted ; and when night dropped her dark curtains 
around the weary travelers some rested or slept, while 
others gazed in death -like stillness upon the sparkling 
firmament, or listened to the music of streamlet and 
breeze, occasionally starting at the rustling of a leaf — 
any thing that broke the solemn silence striking terror 
to the heart. 

Once, after having passed over many miles without 
interruption, the travelers grew careless, and scattered 
groups pursued their way without apprehension. One 
family, being considerably in advance, was entirely sepa- 
rated from the company. Several hours had elapsed 
without one of them being seen by those in the rear. 
Night came on; the stars shone in full glory, shedding a 
hazy light on a few of the nearer objects, but added to 
the dimness and uncertainty of every thing beyond. The 
profound silence was broken only by the restlessness of the 
tethered horses, or the low murmuring in dreams of the 
disturbed sleepers. So intense was the stillness that an 
imaginary noise more than once startled the guards into 
an apprehension of a night attack, deepening the ominous 
silence, and quickening the light step of the sentinel as 
he made his lonely round. 

The report of a gun was heard, and then another, 
followed by the fierce war-whoop of the savage. Some 
of the young men, dashing rapidly onward, soon reached 
a spot where, in the gray light of the dawn", a scene of 
horror presented itself, not uncommon in those perilous 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 45 

times. A party of Indians had come upon the family 
stealthily, and, after a fierce struggle, had fled precipi- 
tately, with all the plunder they could carry. The light- 
footed, mysterious enemy had left the impress of his hand 
on the dead and dying, scattered in every direction. One 
young girl, about fourteen, had been scalped, and left for 
dead in a deep ravine. She had only swooned; and her 
brother, after the fray was over, seeing something in the 
dim distance that looked like an animal, creeping slowly 
towards them through the bushes, raised his gun to fire, 
when he saw a human hand uplifted in an imploring atti- 
tude. In a few minutes more he discovered it to be his 
sister, crawling on her hands and knees, her face com- 
pletely covered by her matted hair. As he drew near 
she threw back her-hair, and, uttering the word "brother," 
fainted in his arms. She had been scalped, but not deeply 
wounded, and her only permanent loss was a portion of 
the skin of her head, rudely torn off by the firm grasp 
of an Indian. This young girl lived to reach Kentucky, 
grew up into womanhood, married, and became the 
mother of a number of sons and daughters, — a proof that 
scalping alone does not necessarily produce death. 

One circumstance, often related to me, forcibly illus- 
trates the keen instinct of the panther. My grandfather 
had been out on a hunt for many days. Weary eyes 
and anxious hearts were Avatching and waiting his return. 
It was midsummer, and the tall cane, with its gracefully 
waving leaves, excluded the view of every object not in 
the immediate vicinity of the lonely and scattered dwell- 
ings. About sunset, one lovely afternoon, my grand- 
mother, with her faithful handmaiden, "Mourning," set 
out to fetch some water from the spring, which, though 

at no great distance from the house, was hidden from 

4 



46 Julia A. Tevis. 

sight. Always in mortal fear of ambushed Indians, 
they were walking slowly along when startled by the 
familiar sound of the lost hunter's cry of "hoo-hoo," 
which was suppressed at intervals, as if listening for a 
response to assure him that he was in the neighborhood 
of home and loved ones. My grandmother answered, as 
she was wont to do, while her heart thrilled with the 
joyful anticipation of meeting her returning husband. 
"Hoo-hoo," in a loud voice, was again heard, and again 
responded to — each time seeming nearer and more dis- 
tinct; when, just as they emerged from the thicket, and 
and caught a glimpse of the shelving rock that over- 
arched the spring, they perceived something moving 
among the bushes above. At first they supposed it to 
be nothing more than a raccoon or an opossum, but it 
proved to be a panther. This animal, when stimulated 
by hunger, would assail whatever would provide him 
with a banquet of blood. Lo ! there he stood, on the 
rock high above the spring, squatting on his hind-legs, in 
the attitude of preparing to leap — his glaring eyeballs 
fierce with expectation. His gray coat, extended claws, 
fiery eyes, and the cry which he at that moment uttered, 
rendered by its resemblance to the human voice pecul- 
iarly terrific, denoted him to be the most ferocious of his 
detested kind. My grandmother, whose presence of 
mind never forsook her, even under the most appalling 
circumstances, retreated slowly, keeping her eyes steadily 
fixed on the eyes of the monster, which seemed mo- 
mentarily paralyzed by her gaze, until she and the negro 
girl could turn by a sudden angle into the woods, when, 
adding "wings to their speed," they soon reached the 
house, and barred the door behind them. 

I do not wish to give the impression that the name 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 47 

of Bush is entitled to any patronymic distinction, or that 
any branch of the family claim nobility ; nevertheless, they 
came from a pure and ancient stock, upon whose bright 
escutcheon no stain had ever rested. It had never been 
legally disgraced, and never forfeited its claims to respect 
and consideration. The family was originally English, as 
I have already stated, and the tradition among them is 
that the founder of the American branch, John Bush, 
came over among the first settlers of Jamestown, and was 
the friend and companion of Captain John Smith. 

My great-grandfather, Philip Bush, possessed a large 
landed estate. His eight sons and four daughters were 
matrimonially connected with some of the most distin- 
guished families in the "Old Dominion." My Grand- 
father Ambrose, the youngest child save one, married a 
Gholson — a family from whence originated statesmen and 
orators. My great-uncle, Billy Bush, came to Kentucky 
with Daniel Boone on his second trip. He was fortunate 
in securing the fairest portion of the land in Clarke 
County, by warrants and otherwise, extending from Win- 
chester to Boonesborough. He gave away, or sold for a 
trifle, farm after farm to his friends and relatives, that 
they might be induced to settle near him. These seemed 
so well satisfied with the Goshen of their choice that even 
their descendants had no disposition to emigrate, nor, 
indeed, to enter the arena of public life. Thus they 
continued their pastoral and farming occupations, "length- 
ening their cords and strengthening their stakes;" marry- 
ing and intermarrying with the families in the vicinity, as 
well as among their own kindred, until the relationship 
can scarcely be traced to a vanishing point. There are 
the Quisenburys, the Vivians, the Elkins, the Gentrys, 
the Embrys, the Bushes, etc. — all uncles, aunts, or 



48 Julia A. Tevis. 

cousins ; and at one time you might travel for miles 
without being out of the favored circle. 

When I can first recollect it was a community of Bap- 
tists, and they all worshiped at the stone meeting-house 
on Howard's Creek. There is an interest attached to this 
old church that deserves mention. It is, probably, the 
first Baptist church built in Kentucky, and its foundations 
are laid deep and strong, though not large and wide. A 
community of Baptists, living on the .Holston River, in 
Virginia, determined to emigrate to Kentucky in 1780. 
The ruling elder, Rev. Mr. Vinton, was their leader. 
They passed through much tribulation, and finally reached 
their destination, but had no permanent place of worship 
until the stone church referred to was erected, and called 
"Providence." The Rev. Robert Elkin was their pastor 
for forty-two years. Among the most prominent mem- 
bers for a long period were my grand-parents, who lived 
to see many of their descendants baptized into the same 
Church. I visited the neighborhood in 1824, and found 
attached to that congregation thirteen widow Bushes. 
During the past Summer, 1864, I had the privilege of 
entering within its hallowed walls, and hearing an ex- 
cellent sermon from a Reformed Baptist minister. The 
Reformers preach on alternate Sundays with the old Bap- 
tists, and the two congregations worship together, gener- 
ally without any disagreement. 

The old church is in good condition. We reach it 
through a lovely blue-grass region, dotted with stately 
mansions, rendered attractive by green lawns and mag- 
nificent old sugar-trees, through whose foliage the sun- 
light, streaming down, covers the ground with enchanting 
figures of light and shade. The rugged hills surrounding 
the creek present a striking contrast to the green valleys 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 49 

where Summer sleeps upon beds of roses. Now and 
then a simple cottage is seen sparkling like a diamond in 
its granite cup ; or on the top of some green and goodly 
hill a dwelling, white and fair, gleaming through depths 
of the richest verdure. In a lovely nook, nestled among 
the rock hills of the creek, stands the house of a dear 
old relative, with whose family I was privileged to spend 
a few hours during my recent visit — a golden link in the 
chain of reminiscences binding me to the past. What a 
tide of sweet memories swept over me as I listened and 
learned again the oft-repeated histories of my childhood's 
rosy hours; and stood once more in the graveyard, 
where, amid crumbling gravestones, rested the bodies 
of so many that I had known and loved in early life. 
What changes had passed over Kentucky since my 
grand-parents were deposited in that quiet resting-place! 
Their tombstones are hoary with age and crumbling into 
dust; but affection keeps the spot green with fresh 
memorials. Flowers bloom in loveliness around them. 
The sweetbrier sends forth its fragrance, and Summer 
roses are found there gushing with dewy sweetness. 

Of my old Uncle Billy a word, and I am done with 
this subject, rendered somewhat tedious by the clinging 
fondness of my own recollections. This famous old In- 
dian fighter, after having suffered, in common with the 
rest of the settlers, many privations, and having endured 
much, found himself with but a few hundred acres of that 
vast domain he had fought to defend. He had munifi- 
cently given away much, and was, probably, bereft of 
some by defective titles. He spent his latter years in the 
visionary pursuit of silver mines, which he never found. 
Like the mirage in the desert they eluded his grasp — 
forever and forever vanishing as the spot was neared. 



50 Julia A. Tevis. 

The glittering prize proved a "glorious cheat;" but it 
kept up its delusions, until "the silver chord was loosed 
and the golden bowl was broken," and the poor old man 
found a resting-place beneath Kentucky soil, with many 
other patriarchs of the infant State. 

We look now to the soil where grazes the peaceful 
flock, when Summer shakes her sparkling wreath, and 
sheds her luster over the blooming- landscape ; to the 
fields, where wave the golden harvests ; to the air above, 
where play the wings of the low-flighted swallow; and to 
the woods, where the passing wheels denote the course 
of men, and ask, Can this be so? Yes, over all these 
former hunting-grounds of a race fast fading away from 
this glorious country, once all their own, not a vestige is 
now to be seen. 

How dreary, how sad our emotions, when we reflect 
on the multiplied hundreds of these poor, untaught chil- 
dren of the forest, hurried into the eternal world by their 
pale-faced brethren, who wrested from them all they 
loved, and usurped their hunting-grounds without once 
offering them the pipe of peace! 

I recollect what an inexpressible feeling of awe crept 
over my childish spirit, as I listened to the veteran 
pioneers telling their exploits with the Indians, and 
recounting with peculiar zest their perils, their bloody 
struggles, their hair-breadth escapes, and their victories. 
The whites scarcely ever took prisoners; they considered 
it safer to dispatch them at once to another world. My 
heart-bubbling laughter was stilled, and my childish sports 
forgotten, as, listening, I crept closer to my grandmother's 
side. Once sole lords of a rich and almost boundless 
country, they have been crowded farther and farther from 
their sunny homes, farther from the noble rivers they so 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 51 

much loved, and the blue Atlantic, upon whose waves 
they thought many a good spirit dwelt. Some of them 
calmly submitted to their fate, and after the last struggle 
over the graves of their kindred — a spot ever venerated 
by the red man — departed never to return. Others 
fought long and desperately, choosing rather to die 
within sight of their homes. 

The whole State of Kentucky was then a perfect 
jungle of beautiful luxuriance ; and to the admiring eyes 
of the new settlers another Eden, with its green glories 
of cane-brake — which, in some places, grew twenty feet 
high — and forest, crystal streams and laughing skies ; its 
luxuriant corn-fields and blue-grass woodland pastures. 
No wonder our good old preacher, with his own pecu- 
liar quaintness, when describing the beauties of heaven, 
called it "a fair Kentucky of a place." To the early set- 
tlers it appeared a fairy-land. Leaf-embowered streams, 
whose laughing waters danced over polished pebbles, that 
glittered in the sunlight like diamonds ; hill and dale, 
mountain and glade, varied the scene to the charmed eye 
of the huntsman, as he wandered through the thick 
forests under a canopy of softest blue, while the lofty 
trees sang a pleasant melody at the bidding of the balmy, 
flower-laden breeze. No wonder that the tales of the 
past, which now in memory dwell, are full of mythical 
fancies, arising from those deep and beautiful solitudes, 
where — 

"All the boundless store of charms, 
Which Nature to her votary yields, 
The pomp of grove, and garniture of fields," 

fills the heart with emotions of love and gratitude to that 
great and good Being who created this earthly paradise, 
as if to reflect the glories of that world of light and love, 



52 Julia A. Tevis. 

where silvery vales and glittering streams, green fields, 
and budding flowers, "forever and forever rise." The 
land was beautiful in its native simplicity, and became 
more and more fascinating as discovery after discovery 
unveiled to the admiring eye of her settlers much con- 
cealed treasure. Her mountains contain unbounded min- 
eral wealth. Her presiding genius, doubtless, sits en- 
throned in the mysterious depths of some jewel-lit cave. 
Her marble walls, rising in grandeur on the shores of the 
Kentucky and Dicks Rivers, are not less objects of 
curiosity than her Mammoth Cave, of Avorld-wide celeb- 
rity. Variety of productions and mildness of climate 
appropriately render her the Italy of North America. 

In the early part of the present century, the cot- 
ton fields in Clarke County yielded enough of the best 
quality of cotton to supply the wants of every family; 
and while tobacco was the staple of the State, rich har- 
vests of wheat, extensive corn-fields, and every variety 
of cereal gladdened the happy farmer with the conscious- 
ness of a bountiful provision for his family. Sugar was 
made in abundance from the maple, whole groves of 
which were found in Kentucky before the utilitarian ax 
of the woodman laid them prostrate, to give place to the 
more useful blue grass. One of these groves, on my 
grandfather's place, contained a thousand trees, many 
of which are still standing. The sugar-making time in 
February, when the rich sap began to flow abundantly, 
was a glorious time, and long looked forward to with as 
much delight as Christmas. A regular encampment on 
the ground made a pleasant home for the two weeks 
devoted to this gypsy life. The children, including the 
little negroes — and there were swarms of them — to use 
their own words, "toted" sugar water in their tiny pails, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 53 

hour after hour, and were amply rewarded when the 
sugar was in its transition state of waxy consistency 
with as much as they could eat. My grandmother's 
sugar- chest was every year filled with grained maple 
sugar, whiter and purer than that made from the cane; 
while a great quantity was put up in cakes for eating — 
like candy; and as much molasses was reserved as would 
abundantly supply the family until sugar-making time 
came round again. 

And now, while I write, I can see the camp-fires 
lighted, the dusky figures passing and repassing, groups 
of happy children laughing and shouting as they bring 
in their contributions of crystal water for the steaming 
boilers. I almost inhale the delicious breath of an atmos- 
phere, redolent with a freshness and purity never known 
in the crowded haunts of men. I have counted nearly 
sixty years since those days of unmingled joyousness, 
yet still the memory of that time is green, when I played 
beneath the boughs of the lofty maple-tree, at whose 
roots grew the fresh moss, clustered with tiny blue 
flowers, or wandered through avenues of papaw bushes, 
as I wended my way from my father's house to the dear 
old grandfather's homestead. 



54 Julia A. Tevis. 



Chapter II. 

Being the second child and oldest daughter, I was sent 
to a country school at a very early age. I think I 
was but four years old on that bright and happy morning 
when my mother, after filling our little school-basket with 
a lunch to be eaten at play-time, sent my brother and me 
to school. The dew was yet upon the grass, and the 
birds were caroling their morning hymns as they flut- 
tered among the branches of the trees which shaded our 
pathway. Ah, well do I remember that lovely morning. 
How joyously I tripped along, playing bo-peep with the 
sun as his golden beams glittered through a fretwork of 
green above my head, now and then stopping to gather 
wild flowers that seemed too beautiful to be left behind! 
A little incident, though not amusing at the time, has 
afforded much merriment since. My brother, two years 
my senior, carried our basket, containing a square black 
bottle of milk, two or three nicely baked waffles, two 
fried eggs, slices of ham, two apple-turnovers, and but- 
tered bread, rendered luscious by being thickly over- 
spread with maple-sugar. We had scarcely gone half our 
way — the school-house was two miles distant from home — 
when it was proposed that we should rest awhile under 
the shade of a magnificent tree, and peep into the basket. 
The repast looked so inviting under the snowy covering 
that we were tempted to eat a portion of the good things; 
after which my brother, to whom the idea of school was 
not half so pleasing as to myself, begged me to go back 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 55 

and ask permission to stay from school that day. I 
agreed to it, and soon reached home and delivered my 
message; to which my mother replied by taking my 
hand, and, gathering a switch, she silently led me to the 
trysting- place where my brother awaited me; and after 
applying the rod freely, to quicken his indolent faculties, 
accompanied us to the log school-house, and handed us 
over to "the master," who seated me beside one of the 
larger pupils, bidding her teach "the little one" her A, 
B, C's from a board upon which they were pasted. 

I recollect distinctly the house, and the school itself, 
which in its day was a model. A square room, with a 
fireplace large enough to hold nearly half a cord of wood ; 
a puncheon floor; hard, rough, wooden benches, without 
backs; an opening in the wall, of an oblong form, oppo- 
site the door, for a window, with crevices enough in 
every direction to admit a free circulation of air ! The 
furniture, consisting of a desk, at which the teacher was 
placed, or rather perched, far above all the miserable 
little urchins; a ferule, a rod, and a pile of copy-books, 
complete the picture. 

At twelve, which was known by a mark on the door- 
sill — the primitive clock of our forefathers — the whole 
school was turned out for a two-hours' recreation and 
dinner. Such shouts of merriment ! such ringing laugh- 
ter! So much outgushing happiness, with an abundance 
of fun and frolic, unrestrained by hoops and heels, or the 
fear of soiling delicate costumes! 

Our dinner eaten, how heartily we romped, bent 
young saplings for riding-horses, made swings of the sur- 
rounding grape-vines, and anon rested on the green 
sward under the wide-spreading beech-trees, until we were 
not sorry to hear the stentorian voice of the master 



56 Julia A. Tevis. 

calling out, "Books! books!" at the sound of which 
all ran eagerly to their seats, beginning to con over their 
A, B, C; to 'spell, A bit-sel-fa (A by itself, a), b-e-l, bel, 
Abel; b-a, ba, k-e-r, ker, baker; c-i-d-e-r, der, cider; 
while a class read aloud, "An old man found a rude 
boy," etc.; the teacher, meantime, passing around the 
room, rod in hand, encouraging all to "say out," which 
was done with a will, and without any apparent confu- 
sion, because each one minded his own business and not 
that of another ; and it certainly taught the power of 
abstraction, if nothing else. 

This day was an exponent of many others — days of 
unalloyed happiness, marked by rosy hours, the beauty of 
which still lingers. The cup from which we quaffed pure 
nectar, filtered through the clouds of heaven, contained 
no bitter dregs, and every beaded bubble sparkled with 
joy — evanescent, indeed, but singing as it vanished; and 
seeming now, in the moonlight of other days, as a lus- 
trous pearl on the brow of life's young morning. 

I do not remember how long I continued under the 
instruction of Mr. Pettichord, my Clarke County teacher, 
but I know that I soon learned to read; and reading 
has been a passion with me all my life, a source of so 
great enjoyment as to be appreciated and understood 
by those who have enjoyed in like degree the pleasure 
and profit to be derived therefrom. My excellent par- 
ents, being educated in the very best manner that the 
times and circumstances by which they were surrounded 
afforded, highly appreciated the advantages of a superior 
education, and determined to seek for their children op- 
portunities that Kentucky did not afford; for which pur- 
pose they removed to Virginia when I was but seven 
years of age. Whilst my father was seeking a suitable 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 57 

location for a permanent residence — good schools being 
the principal object — we spent two years in Paris, a pretty- 
little village at the foot of the Blue Ridge, in Loudon 
County; and there, amidst the sublimest scenery, of 
cloud-capped mountains, flowing streams, purified by 
percolation through granite rocks and snow-white peb- 
bles; inhaling the pure mountain breeze, untainted by 
the miasma of richer soils and more favored climes, — our 
physical energies were rapidly developed, and constitu- 
tional strength fixed and settled, so as to tell for good 
upon my future health. 

Nature here was beautiful in every season. The 
mountains, those grand and impressive waymarks of 
Deity, though stern and severe in character, presented a 
grandeur and magnificence of Winter scenery peculiar to 
to these snowy regions. Dark evergreen foliage dotted 
their sides; the brown leaves of the forest trees showed 
but sad remains of Summer's ornamental attire; yet the 
verdant moss and twining ivy still clung to the giant 
forms of the gnarled oak, and invested the less rugged 
structure of the tall and drooping elm and the more del- 
icate aspen. And when the snow covered, with its spot- 
less mantle, broad meadow, mountain gorge, and lovely 
vale, elegantly ornamenting the trees with incrustations 
on their stouter brandies, festooning along the hedge- 
rows, or hanging in full drapery where it drifted through 
them ; and the moon shed her silver light on the mount- 
ain-side, turning each ledge and tree or ghostly stump 
into mysterious apparitions from the spirit-land, — the 
saddest, coldest dell became a cup of lustrous beauty, 
and there was presented the sublimest spectacle ever 
given to this lower world. Then came Spring, when 
primroses peeped from under withered leaves, whose 



58 Julia A. Tevis. 

sheltering care was now repaid by decorations of pale 
delicate petals; when the sweet crocus with the modest 
snowdrop, like maidens in their gala-dresses dancing on 
the green, and the rich clover, sprinkled the meadows 
with their starry eyes. Summer, with all its bright glo- 
ries, seemed really more beautiful in sweet Loudon County 
than in any other spot I now remember. The blossoms 
of Spring were replaced by the reddening and scarcely 
less abundant berries, and every orchard was filled with 
luscious fruits. What a memory scenes like these be- 
queath ! How beautiful, through the vista of years, 
now seems that moonlight track upon the waters of 
my life! 

Not the least in the happiness of those times were our 
nuttings in Autumn, when a stroll was invited by the 
rich, glowing tints that every-where burnished the land, 
and the abundant harvest from the dwarf- hazel and chin- 
capin bushes, with their brown treasures; the stately 
chestnut, whose clustering burs were filled with delicious 
nuts; and the majestic oak, dotted with acorns. All, all 
was fruitfulness. The crimson branches of the red -bud 
and the scarlet berries of the dog-rose showed that, 
though Summer and the flowering season had passed 
away, yet more substantial blessings had succeeded. We 
crushed the dry leaves under our feet — we gathered the 
sorrel from under the ledge of fallen trees ; and this 
sorrel, with its long pointed green leaves, yielded an 
acidity far more agreeable than costly lemonades, as we 
drank from the cool mountain spring. Wending our 
way home, weary with a day's enjoyment, we watched 
with pleasure the gossamer thread whose fine and Avavy 
lines were thrown across our pathway — frail and almost 
viewless threads, that impede no more than do the shades 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 59 

in which they lie almost unseen, or the lingering sun- 
beams in which they glisten. 

I have often fancied, while recalling the beautiful sun- 
sets among the mountains of Virginia, that they must 
surpass those of Italy, so world -renowned. Often, in 
childish admiration, I have watched the declining sun, 
its fading light turning the dark rocks into masses of 
glowing metal, and the pine woods into a forest of spark- 
ling jewels, "limning and lipping" the trembling leaves 
of the forest with gold, and casting outlines on the back- 
ground of glowing fire; and whilst the glorious orb grad- 
ually disappeared below the horizon, rising vapors clus- 
tered around the mountain heights, crowning them with 
a revolving diadem; the bright blue sky deepened into 
purple; the pine-trees put on a drapery of black, as if 
to mourn the departing day ; and in the dim twilight 
was heard the mountain torrents, chafing over their stony 
channels, without one glimpse of sunshine to light them 
on their way; while ever and anon a twinkling star was 
seen through the dense foliage like a gem on Night's 
dark curtain. 

A few pleasing incidents connected with my sojourn 
at the foot of the Blue Ridge I will record. 

When blooming Spring returned with her buds and 
blossoms, then came the dancing-school, which was held 
in the large upper room of a water-mill, cleared of its 
flour-bags and barrels for our use. Here we labored as 
hard all day on Saturday "to dance each other down" 
as we did during the week to keep the place of honor in 
our literary classes. 

At the close of the first quarter in the dancing-school 
all the gentry in the neighborhood were invited to an 
exhibition, when each pupil was to display the acquire- 



60 Julia A. Tevis. 

merits of the term. The important morning arrived. I 
was dressed in a full robe of white muslin, which, being 
a little too long, was festooned with wild flowers and 
garden honeysuckles, until short enough to display my 
"clocked" stockings and sharp-toed shoes of red mo- 
rocco. After having performed, for the twentieth time, 
my steps and pirouettes before a large, old-fashioned 
mirror in the dining-room, I started with my brother to 
the mill, on foot, having exchanged my white stockings 
and new slippers for walking-shoes. When within the 
immediate vicinity of the old mill I again donned my 
white stockings and dancing-slippers, smoothed my hair, 
and shook out the folds of my dress, the skirt of which 
had been pinned up by my careful mother to avoid con- 
tact with dust. 

We were handed in by our attentive dancing-master, 
who was dressed in the full costume of the politest cir- 
cles of the day, — neatly fitting small clothes, with silk 
stockings fastened at the knees, bows of ribbon and 
bright silver buckles — corresponding bows and buckles 
adorning his dancing-pumps. My brother made his bow, 
and I courtesied so low as almost to lose my equilibrium. 
After we had displayed our steps in classes, partners 
were selected for us, and we danced cotillions, Virginia 
reels, minuets, and shawl dances, to the intense delight 
of the ladies who were seated around the room like wall 
flowers, while the gentlemen stood about in groups. 

At twelve we were collected on the green sward in 
the deeply-shaded woods, to share a rich repast of good 
things provided by the neighbors and patrons of the 
school; after which our dancing exercises were resumed 
and continued until evening, when all returned to their 
homes fully satisfied with the simple pleasures of the day. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 6i 

No jealous thoughts, no heart burnings, no disappointed 
vanity marred our happiness or drove away "Nature's 
sweet restorer, balmy sleep," which came with night to 
close our weary eyelids, and catch reflected smiles from 
placid faces and rosy lips, while the stars that peeped 
quietly in at the windows lighted up dewy brows and 
healthy cheeks, unsullied by a tear. 

Oh, how does the golden lamp of young life flood all 
its surroundings with light and beauty, leaving an illu- 
minated page in memory's book, which no after cares 
can darken ! Happy the young who may dwell in their 
own homes, filled with the domestic flowers of love and 
innocence, whence the voice of affection breathes on the 
ear, opening in the inner heart blossoms of piety and 
virtue, to which are duly apportioned the dew and 
the sunbeam ! 

I am not of those who are constantly bemoaning the 
"better times of the glorious old past;" and yet, I verily 
believe that the children of fifty years ago enjoyed life 
more, and were educated in a manner better suited to the 
development of their physical and mental energies, and 
to the fostering of that self-reliance so necessary for the 
life-struggle of mature age, than those of modern times. 
Our simple costume, unconfined by belt or girdle, and 
our bib-aprons, as distinctly separated the school girl 
from the young lady in society, as did the "bulla and 
toga virilis" separate childhood and manhood among 
the Romans. 

With what pleasure, not unmingled with vanity, did I 
display my two school dresses for the Spring of 1812, 
both made of Virginia cotton cloth, home spun and home 
woven — one a white ground with pink stripes running 
lengthwise; the other, a blue plaid, which was the admi- 

5 



62 Julia A. Tevis. 

ration of all the unsophisticated girls in my class. And 
then our dresses cost, comparatively, so little. A simple 
frock, with a draw-string around the waist, three widths 
in the skirt, one of which was cut into gores, and a 
check apron was the height of our ambition. Though 
our dresses were not full and flowing, they were wide 
enough to admit of leaping, running, jumping, and climb- 
ing trees — a feat often performed by girls from eight to 
fifteen years of age. In Winter we faced the wind and 
braved the snow, and even sought the drifted banks, into 
which we literally waded without fear of cold or sick- 
ness — an evil almost unkown among the hardy little 
pine-knots of Virginia. Headaches were a myth, and 
indigestion never heard of. No colds or sore-throats; 
none of the various ailings which arise from lack of a 
little wholesome neglect. At playtime, in Winter, we 
built snow-houses, erected colossal statues, and bound 
their brows with icicles — rare jewels these when the sun 
shone on them ! Coasting, sliding, snow-balling — oh, this 
was fun ! The result, good constitutions, power to endure 
exposure, and exemption from asthma and consump- 
tion. People did not die then before their time came. 

The little village of Paris, to which I have before 
alluded, afforded a good day-school, and many privileges 
in the way of a common education. The school-house 
stood in a beautiful grove that skirted the highway. 
There we learned to read, write, and cipher, and were 
thoroughly drilled in Dilworth's Spelling-book — the vade 
mecuni of every country teacher — and were taught to 
"make our manners" without paying an "extra six- 
pence" a week. This excellent school-house was also 
occupied as the village church. 

A favorite amusement with the children, at that time, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 63 

was swinging from the end of a grapevine torn from its 
fastenings in the tree. A feat of this kind came near 
costing me my life, when but nine years old. I was a 
slender and delicate looking child, yet remarkably strong 
and active, and could climb like a cat. By the aid of 
one of my older companions I had gained firm footing 
high up in a gnarled oak — easy enough to climb; but 
venturing too far out upon one of its branches, and seiz- 
ing with both hands a loosened grapevine, I attempted 
to swing down gently, as I had often done before; but 
the whole vine giving way too suddenly, I was precipi- 
tated to the ground, from whence my frightened com- 
panions raised me in a senseless state. Happily no per- 
manent injury resulted, as I fell upon the soft, green 
sward, but it rendered me chary ever afterward about 
cimbing trees. I rode on horseback when quite a child, 
with the greatest ease and fearlessness — frequently mount- 
ing in my father's saddle, and riding round and round the 
village, to my own infinite delight and the great amuse- 
ment of the bystanders. 

The old lady with whom we boarded during our first 
year's residence in Paris deserves notice, as one of the 
institutions of the place. Her house stood at the far- 
thest end of a long street which commenced at the foot 
of the mountain. She kept a genteel establishment called 
a "tavern" — there were no hotels then. No liquors were 
sold there. It was really a resting-place; and many a 
way-worn traveler hailed with delight the entrance to. that 
old-fashioned brick building, whose signboard promised 
"refreshment for man and beast." There was a coldness 
and precision about the interior arrangements of this 
dwelling that impressed every body painfully. The door- 
steps, the window-sills, the sashes, the wash-boards, were 



64 Julia A. Tevis. 

immaculately white, and kept so by the daily scrubbing 
of a withered-looking housemaid. The very knives, forks, 
and spoons were made thin by repeated rubbings. The 
best room was excruciatingly tidy. The ' heavy, high- 
backed chairs, mahogany tables; the well- waxed floor, in 
which you could almost see your face; the old-fashioned 
family pictures suspended from the walls; and, indeed, all 
its appointments, were matters of great curiosity to me. 

Madam R. was a little old woman between the ages 
of sixty and seventy, with sharp, attenuated features, 
long nose, and pointed chin; and when I first saw her 
she needed only a broomstick to make me think she was 
one of the witches described in my nursery tales. She 
wore slippers with long, slender heels, evidently to in- 
crease her height. I wondered how she could walk in 
them ; yet she glided along noiselessly and gracefully, 
with her full skirts and ample train. A high-crowned 
cap, with a fine muslin kerchief folded over her bosom, 
a huge pair of silver-mounted spectacles, a heavy bunch 
of keys at her girdle, with scissors and pin-cushion dang- 
ling outside of her sober-colored gown, and a linen lawn 
apron, completed her attire. Her snuff-box and book 
lay always on her work-table ; for she read novels and 
romances with as much zest as a love-sick girl — her Bible 
never, so far as I could see. This also made me afraid 
of her; for I had been told that good people always read 
the Bible. 

I have .since thought that the old lady must have been 
a nice mathematician. I have seen her divide a common- 
sized apple-pie into as many pieces as would serve eight 
or ten persons. She never thought of leaving any for 
the waiting children; and more than once I shed silent 
tears as I saw the last piece appropriated. She could 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 65 

"cut and come again" so skillfully from a round of 
spiced beef as not to exhaust it for two weeks, during 
which time it made its daily appearance at the table. 
Her tact was admirable; her economy wonderful! 

A son and a daughter completed this family circle. 
The former was a mechanical sort of an old bachelor, 
who "moved, worked, and suffered" — a mere attaclie of 
the establishment, to be ordered into service when 
needed. He was seldom seen, never heard; and from 
his unbroken silence it might be inferred that he had 
never learned to talk ; the truth was, his lady mother 
and loquacious sister never gave him an opportunity. 
He must have kept up a "mighty thinking," however; 
for he showed all the ingenuity and shrewdness of a 
Yankee, in the many useful inventions and labor-saving 
machines resulting from a clear-sighted vision and a quick 
instinct of the profitable. In matters of trade and busi- 
ness Mr. Jerry was never at fault. 

Miss Jane was tall and meagre; her visage sharp, 
swarthy, and unprepossessing, except for her keen gray 
eyes, that sparkled with intelligence. Strange that there 
should be any thing fascinating in an eye that belonged 
to so cold a heart! The sharpness of her tones, even 
in common conversation, repelled affection. Like her 
mother, she was so addicted to novel-reading that she 
lived in an ideal world. Mrs. Radcliffe's "piled-up 
horrors" and mysterious ramifications furnished the apart- 
ments of her brain, and shed a lurid light upon her soul. 
Her dress was characteristic of the tastes she had im- 
bibed ; and never did a faded woman upon the verge of 
fifty take more trouble to look like a heroine of romance. 
Girlish frocks tied around her thin form, flowing sashes, 
false curls peeping out from under a fantastic head-dress 



66 Julia A. Tevis. 

adorned with flowers or drooping feathers, failed to make 
her appear youthful. Nobody loved her ; yet she Avas nei- 
ther shunned nor ridiculed, because she was really polite to 
every body. She preferred the society of young persons, 
took part in their amusements, and delighted in bringing 
down her own thoughts to their comprehension. Her 
memory was filled with the most thrilling stories of hob- 
goblins and fairies, spiced with raw -heads -and -bloody- 
bones, distressed damsels, and brave knights. 

I was an interested listener; and she tried to make 
me fond of her by coaxing and sweetmeats. By degrees 
I drew nearer, and still nearer, and would even sit on a 
low stool at her feet for hours, listening to her stories. 

I must, however, do this woman the justice to say 
that to her I am partly indebted for my intense love of 
reading. Happy for me, at this period of pure fancy, 
before my brain was strong enough to bear severe read- 
ing, to have found one, burdened with the wealth of 
many beautiful things, who led me at will through all 
the Arcadian scenes of fiction, making the "Arabian 
Nights," "Fairy Tales," and "Robinson Crusoe" my 
text -books, instead of English Grammar and Mathe- 
matics. It only made me relish the more, as I grew 
older, and wayward fancy gave place to higher thoughts, 
veritable travels and biography. As my powers of reten- 
tion grew stronger, History and Poetry stood ready to 
meet my intellectual wants. Thus, by degrees, was my 
world-wide curiosity in a measure sated, and deeper 
thought awakened, as I entered upon dryer and severer 
studies. The end, the use of things, must be seen before 
the means can be appreciated. It is better that reflection 
and fancy be germinated before than simultaneously with 
them ; the attention will be less diverted. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 67 



Chapter III. 

My father finally located his family in Winchester, at 
that time the most beautiful inland town in Vir- 
ginia, eligibly situated at the entrance of what is termed 
the "rich valley" in Frederick County. It presented an 
inviting place of residence for many wealthy and distin- 
guished families, whose hospitable mansions ornamented 
the suburbs, and whose hearts and homes welcomed 
"the coming guest," making that welcome so agreeable, 
that many — so the old story goes — lingered until they 
forgot they were not at home. Winchester and its lovely 
environs might well have been deemed an earthly para- 
dise, which, had Mahomet looked upon from the mount- 
ain heights, as he did upon Damascus, he would have 
hesitated to enter, for fear the "Lotus Land" might 
make him forgetful of the Paradise above. So I think, 
at least, as I look upon it now through the golden haze 
of memory. 

Here was an excellent Female Academy, under the 
superintendence of the Rev. Mr. Hill, a Presbyterian 
minister, eminent for piety, learning, and ability. He 
was assisted by the Rev. Mr. Straight, pastor of the 
Dutch Reformed Church. In this school I gained knowl- 
edge rapidly; learned the worth of time, and tried to 
improve it, by laying up a store of useful information, 
which proved a solid foundation for the superstructure to 
be raised upon it. For three consecutive years my first 
lesson in the morning- was two columns in Walker's 



68 Julia A. Tevis. 

Dictionary, giving the definitions and parts of speech. 
We spelled in large classes, and regularly turned each 
other down — the one who retained her place at the head 
of the class for the whole week, bearing off the prize- 
ticket on Friday afternoon; and, to this hour, though 
I consult other lexicographers, Walker is my standard. 

Mr. Hill was one of those wise-hearted teachers, espe- 
cially fitted for his important vocation. Rightly dividing 
the words of instruction and disciplinary admonition, he 
failed not to secure the love, as well as the respect and 
esteem, of his pupils. Strict, but not severe; uniformly 
kind, but not familiar; conscientious in the discharge 
of his duty, he succeeded admirably in training his pupils 
intellectually and religiously. From this "Academy" 
(bless the old-fashioned name!), which continued in suc- 
cessful operation for many years, went forth a number 
of interesting women to cheer the domestic hearthstone, 
to be useful in the world, and to shine like diamonds 
of the purest water in society. My reminiscences con- 
nected with this school have ever been a fruitful source 
of pleasure to myself and amusement to others; indeed, 
I never think of Winchester but a thrill of joy passes 
through my heart. "Like the music of other days, 'tis 
mournful, but pleasing to the soul." 

Our school hours were from eight to twelve in the 
forenoon, and from two until four in the afternoon. 
During the Summer months many of us attended a 
sewing-school, taught from four until six o'clock P. M., 
by an old lady from Philadelphia, of "yellow fever 
memory." Nothing delighted her so much as the reca- 
pitulation of the horrors connected wiih that awful visi- 
tation upon her native city in 1793. Her memory was 
filled with incidents of people put in their coffins before 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 69 

their breath was fairly gone; the dead, hurried by cart- 
loads into pits dug to receive them ; instances of resusci- 
tion after burial; weeping mothers and dismayed children 
flying from the homes where the husbands and fathers 
had died; ghost-like figures, wrapped in cloaks, going 
about the streets in search of shelter, invested already 
with the floating pestilence. No wonder our samplers 
and various kinds of needle-work dropped from our trem- 
bling hands, while, panic stricken, we were prompted to 
run as if the terrible plague was already rushing upon us, 
and could only be avoided by precipitate flight. Few of 
her listeners but were slightly tinctured with supersti- 
tion by these daily recitals; and many a poor, little, blue- 
eyed, flaxen haired girl was rendered still more timid as 
the shadows of evening lengthened. She would not have 
dared, for the world, to wend her way homeward in the 
dark without a companion somewhat bolder and stronger 
than herself; indeed, none of us were disposed to tarry 
by the way. 

Friday afternoons and the whole day on Saturdays 
we attended Monsieur Xaupe's dancing-school. This 
accomplishment was carried on through all our academical 
course. Dancing then was dancing, indeed! Character- 
ized by graceful agility, it was exercise in the true sense 
of the word, particularly if carried on in the open air; 
no lackadaisical languishing on the one part, nor stiff, 
awkward shuffling on the other. Graceful evolutions and 
genteel cotillions, even among boys and girls, were car- 
ried on with the utmost attention to modest etiquette, 
the personal attention of the gentlemen extending no 
further than touching the tip ends of delicately gloved 
hands. High heels and sweeping trains effectually forbid 
elegant dancing nowadays. The custom among the boys 



70 Julia A. Tevis. 

and girls of playing thimble at recess, or something that 
required forfeits, I did not admire, and seldom joined in. 
Once an awkward, red-headed boy, of about fifteen, was 
required to redeem a pawn by coming stealthily and kiss- 
ing, me. I had withdrawn to a corner, and was deeply 
engaged in reading. He was not quick enough. This 
gave me an opportunity of slapping him violently in the 
face with a book. He retired with a burning cheek from 
the combat, but, forgetting the insult before evening, 
attempted to walk home with me. I was sullenly silent 
at first, but soon found an opportunity of pushing him 
into a gutter. Thus ended my prospect for beaux. Child 
as I was — only eleven — I heartily despised flirting among 
boys and girls. 

I have referred to the hardy habits of children fifty 
years ago, and will give another incident, connected with 
my school life at Winchester, showing with what impu- 
nity we reveled in the cold, and amid the ice and snow. 

Near our school-house, in the suburbs of the town, and 
just hidden from the dwelling of our teacher, was a large 
pond, sufficiently ice-bound in the Winter to afford slid- 
ing for the girls, and good skating for the little boys who 
timidly ventured there. One glorious noon a dozen or 
more of us, after hurrying through our lunch, went down 
to this pond, where we thought to have a merry time. 
Two or three little blue nosed urchins were made to give 
up their skates to some of the girls, whilst others con- 
tented themselves with sliding; and we were scarcely 
under way when one of our little romps fell flat on her 
face, with her nose forced into a crack in the ice. Of 
course, she tried to scream terribly; but her screams 
were faint compared with the noise of those gathered to 
her assistance. Some stumbled and fell; others tried in 



Sixty Yeah s in a School-room. 71 

vain to lift her up. After several unsuccessful efforts, how- 
ever, we succeeded, and found her face scratched and nose 
badly bruised. A few drops of blood so increased the 
panic, and retarded the progress of matters, that we could 
with difficulty get her to a boarding-house near by, and 
take her stealthily up into one of the girls' rooms, before 
the bell rang for school. The roll was called — "Mary 
M'Kendlass. " "Absent." "She was here this morn- 
ing," said Mr. Hill; "what has become of her?" A 
moment of silence, when one, bolder than the rest, said, 
"She is sick; gone home." Mr. Hill looked incredu- 
lous, but made no remark. I, for one, felt inexpressibly 
relieved ; for there was no mischief ever on hand that he 
did not deem me one of the culprits. We sat all the 
afternoon with cold, wet feet, not daring to approach the 
large wood fire that blazed so cheerfully on the hearth, 
for fear of attracting attention. Poor girls! A shadow 
rested upon our merry faces that whole afternoon ; not 
that we dreaded sickness — it was a thing almost unknown 
among us, although we spent nearly all our playtimes 
out of doors, in defiance of the severest weather. 

How wearily the hours dragged on until the time of 
our dismissal. Several of us then went to take Mary 
home, whom we found much refreshed by a long sleep. 
We were delighted to think that our adventure was about 
to terminate so happily. We walked gayly along with 
Mary towards her home, when, lo! just as we were enter- 
ing the back gate Mr. Hill appeared at the front door, 
coming to inquire after his sick pupil. Our consternation , 
may well be imagined, but the scene was indescribable. 
Mr. Hill's quizzical look was perfectly irresistible ; and, 
with a little encouragement from his laughing eye, we 
confessed our fault, and, pleading guilty, begged for 



72 Julia A. Tevis. 

mercy, which was granted, after amusing himself for some 
time at our expense; but we were debarred the privilege 
of another icy adventure that Winter. 

Our excellent teacher was very successful in his re- 
proofs; and though sometimes severe, he never failed to 
make us sensible of his affectionate regard and the real 
interest he felt in our welfare. We were happy children, 
full of life and sunshine, and he had no disposition to 
repress innocent fun and frolic. He knew there must be 
a safety-valve for the outgushing merriment of young 
hearts. 

I have said that .we were mischievous; but never ma- 
licious, I am sure. Once I was induced by a fun-loving 
girl to put sugar in the inkstands, being assured that it 
would meet the approbation of our solemn writing-master. 
We gazed with admiration at the black, shining words of 
our beautiful copies, as we left them open on the desk 
while we were reciting in an adjoining room. It was Sum- 
mer, and the flies were so busy during our absence that 
when the master came around there was not a legible 
word to be seen. "Who did this? Speak, instantly!" 
No reply; but agitation and alarm were so visible upon 
my face that, placing his heavy hand upon my brow, he 
stretched open my eyes to a painful extent, while he 
threatened to box my ears. My ludicrous appearance 
and terrified looks seemed to cool his anger almost to the 
laughing point, except that he never laughed. Thus he 
left me with a positive threat of severe punishment should 
it ever occur again. 

Children are not most effectually governed by too much 
fault-finding. Teachers and parents are slow to learn that 
there is a chord in every heart which vibrates more to 
the touch of kindness than to the rude shock of rough 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 73 

government. Serious faults should never be overlooked ; 
and, to secure principles of right doing, a child should be 
taught that it is an accountable being. Morals are best 
inducted and principles most firmly fixed during the first 
ten years of a child's life. 

Being so fully persuaded of the superiority of Mr. 
Hill's mode of instruction, and the benefits I derived 
from this excellent institution, I can not close this part 
of my subject without saying something of the long- 
debated question of making children write compositions. 
The younger pupils of this Academy were as much re- 
quired to bring in weekly contributions of this kind as 
the older members of the school — something in the form 
of a letter or a familiar story — until they could write with 
ease, and sometimes express themselves with elegance. 

My first effort was a letter blistered with tears, upon 
which more time had been spent than ever Cicero devoted 
to one of his finest orations. It was to be read aloud, 
and criticised before the whole school. Having an unac- 
countable dread of the slightest contraction of Mr. Hill's 
ample brow, I dared not look up as I tremblingly placed 
my epistle in his hand. It was folded in the most ap- 
proved style, and addressed to a far-off friend. It com- 
menced thus: I now sit down and take up my pen — 
"You sit down," interrupted my unmerciful critic. 
"Who do you think cares whether you sit or stand?" — 
and Avrite to inform you — " Your friend reads your letter, 
why must you inform her that you give her the informa- 
tion?" — that I am well, and this comes hopping — "Aston- 
ishing! And so it is to go hopping? a most extraor- 
dinary epistle! I suppose it skips and jumps, too;" and 
so my censor continued through the whole page. My 
ears burned, my head ached, my eyes swam in tears, and 



74 Julia A. Tevis. 

my glowing cheeks were almost purple with confusion; 
but I bore it all, profited by the criticism, never tried to 
evade my weekly task, and have reaped a rich reward. 
No doubt my facility in letter writing is largely clue to 
this initiatory ordeal, combined with my determined 
effort while a pupil of that good old-time academy. 

Our text-books were few, but we obtained a thorough 
knowledge of them. I believe I could now, after the 
lapse of so many years, repeat the whole of Murray's 
Grammar from the beginning of Etymology to the end 
of Syntax, verbatim, after a slight review. Do not infer 
from this that memory alone was cultivated; on the con- 
trary, much pains was taken to cultivate our thinking 
powers. I doubt much if the modern labor-saving books 
have not rendered education far more superficial. Self-cul- 
ture and close thinking strengthen the mental powers — a 
slow growth of mind would make more useful men and 
women. The possession of knowledge is useless to the 
world, without the wisdom to apply it — hot-house plants 
often wither without bearing fruit. The young, in mod- 
ern times, think too little and act too much; they are 
alarmingly busy and remarkably idle, and often good for 
nothing, unless controlled by stronger minds. 

During my school-days we took lessons in gymnastics 
from Nature. To ride young saplings, to climb trees for 
cherries and wild grapes, was Nature's inductive method 
of teaching ease of manner and grace of motion; while 
with her delicate pencil she failed not to impart the glow 
of health and beauty. Can beauty exist ' where health 
is not? 

We remained in Winchester more than three years. 
One bright page in my memory, during that time, is 
devoted to a visit to Bath or Berkley Springs, situated 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 75 

about forty miles north. This was a celebrated watering- 
place during the Revolutionary War, and the resort of 
many distinguished men since. Lord Fairfax had a Sum- 
mer residence there, the ruins of which I have seen; 
and some of the outbuildings — the kitchen, for instance — 
were in good repair in 1857; an & here, probably, he died 
of grief after Cornwallis's surrender, with Yorktown en- 
graven on his heart. The house where Washington 
boarded while in Bath is still pointed out; and, though 
in ruins, held in reverence by the inhabitants. 

The beautiful valley in which this little town is sit- 
uated is overtopped by stately mountains, from which 
are poured a profusion of rivulets, keeping the grass 
fresh and green and fertilizing the soil. Thickly shaded 
groves, threaded with graveled walks and dotted with 
convenient resting-places ; fountains of pure water, and 
every arrangement calculated to promote health and com- 
fort, met the eye in every direction. Here are also 
found ample facilities for bathing. The dense vegetation, 
the ever-running stream of clear water that passes through 
the village, its banks fringed with trees, afford, perhaps, 
as perfect an idea of Arcadia as one is likely to meet 
with in this every day world. From the highest point 
of one of the mountains may be seen Maryland, Penn- 
sylvania, Western Virginia, and, in the dim distance, the 
Blue Ridge and the peaks of Otter. 

In the year 181 1, a man by the name of Hughes, who 
had been imprisoned for debt in Richmond, Virginia, 
succeeded, by the aid of a shrewd and unscrupulous 
lawyer of that place, in publishing a pretended prophecy 
that a great part of the world would be destroyed by fire. 
This was to take place on a certain day in June. It will 
be understood, that the man had been so long in jail that 



76 Julia A. Tevis. 

the community had lost sight of or forgotten him. The 
pamphlet was secretly printed at the cost of the lawyer, 
who was to share the profits. Care was taken that it 
should not be circulated in the vicinity of Richmond, or 
where there would be any likelihood of the discovery of 
the fraud. It was disseminated throughout the most 
unsettled parts of Virginia, among the mountains, in the 
South and in the far West. One of these, like a stray 
waif, had fallen into the hands of some of our school 
girls. We read it with intense curiosity, and swallowed 
every word of it as truth. The news spread among us 
like wildfire ; and, at each repetition, it became more and 
more exaggerated. We marvelled that it was not talked 
of in our families, and daily expected the communication 
through our teachers. Our eyes grew larger and more 
dreamy, and a settled thoughtfulness seemed to pervade 
the whole school. 

But things went on as usual. Lessons were assigned 
and expected to be learned, our elders appeared as busily 
engaged in preparing to live as if no prophecy had been 
made. What strange apathy in all, save us school girls! 
We talked in retired groups, wept silent tears, and were, 
much to the surprise of our teachers, wonderfully docile. 
No romping or shouting or playing — the elastic step was 
gone, and we felt that — 

"Nothing so like a weary step 
Betrays a weary heart." 

At last arrived the evening preceding the awful day. 
School was dismissed; yet we lingered around the old 
play-ground; the birds sang, the flowers bloomed, and 
the sweet evening breeze swept lovingly over us, obliv- 
ious of any coming change. Hard-hearted Mr. Hill 
turned his back upon us, and walked quietly into the 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 77 

house, without bidding us good-by, as if nothing were to 
happen. Mr. Streight looked colder, and was crosser 
than usual, because our copies were badly written; I 
wondered if he would look so should I meet him in 
heaven. Intimate friends shook hands for the last time, 
kissed one another with more than usual affection, and 
turned- back to bid yet another adieu, weeping as if their 
hearts would break. I wandered listlessly to my own 
home, and seated myself on the door-step to watch 
the declining sun; it sank below the Western horizon, 
clothed in purple and gold. I listened with a pleasing 
melancholy to the twittering of the birds; watched the 
domestic fowls as they retired to roost, and caught the 
melody of the milkmaid's song mingled with the lowing 
of the cattle in the distant meadows. 

I lingered around my mother long after bedtime, and 
kissing her with unusual fervency before retiring, went to 
bed thinking I should pass a restless night; but Nature 
would not be robbed of her dues. Troubled dreams of 
darkened skies, muttering thunder, and flashing lightning 
disturbed my rest. I awoke but once, to see the moon- 
light streaming in through the window, and slept again 
until awakened for breakfast. A brighter day never 
blessed the earth; it was a glorious vision of charming 
Summer weather; and yet, with all this, when we met at 
the opening school hour, we were afraid to enjoy our 
own happy consciousness, and even while bent over our 
books, one and another might occasionally be seen glanc- 
ing at the window as if expecting something startling. 
Thus hour after hour glided away, and not a cloud as 
"big as a man's hand" was seen; and the closing of that 
day brought with it the sweet assurance that our Heav- 
enly Father is always "better to us than our fears." 



78 Julia A. Tevis. 

How strange, knowing, as we do, but one thing cer- 
tainly, that we must die — and of this we are warned from 
the beginning of Genesis to the end of Revelation — yet, 
the many make no preparation for it, and dream of long 
years to come, until startled by some pretended prophecy 
of sudden desolation ; forgetting, meanwhile, the words 
of our Savior, who has emphatically declared, that "of 
the day and hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels of 
heaven, but my Father only." 

Previous to the declaration of war in 1812 there was 
intense excitement throughout the whole country. The 
political animosity existing between the two parties, Fed- 
eralists and Democrats, was bitter beyond expression; 
even the children caught fire in the general conflagration. 
Some were Democrats, the war party; others Federalists, 
"whose voice was still for peace." It was not an unu- 
sual thing to see the girls of our school in battle array 
on the green common, during intermission, fighting like 
furies; and though, like Pompey's patrician soldiers, 
carefully avoiding scratched faces and broken noses, 
many a handful of hair was borne off as a trophy, many 
a neatly made dress torn into tatters; while a system of 
boxing was practiced, that would have done honor to a 
Grecian gymnasium. The war party, of course, were 
generally victorious, as they were not only more numer- 
ous but fiercer, and more demonstrative, and would not 
stay whipped. Nothing was effected, however, in these 
melees ; the battles ended when we were tired of fighting. 
But it is a positive fact, that our dishevelled hair and 
torn garments increased our good humor to the highest 
pitch of merriment. 

Among my most vivid recollections of the opening of 
the war was seeing a splendid body of cavalry passing 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 79 

through the streets of Winchester. It was a full reg- 
iment, handsomely equipped, bright new uniforms, a fine 
band of music, with all the "pomp and circumstance of 
glorious war." The spirited horses, and gallant bearing 
of the officers, with their flashing swords and waving 
plumes, rendered it an imposing sight. 

The colonel was the cynosure of all eyes. Like Saul 
among his brethren, he seemed literally head and shoul- 
ders above all the rest. The melancholy story of this 
man invested him with peculiar interest, and he was a 
welcome guest in every body's family. Shadows had 
surrounded him from his childhood. None knew his 
parentage, nor any of his family connections. Somebody 
in Winchester had charge of him in early life ; regular 
and ample supplies of money were mysteriously sent 
from time to time for his use. He was educated at West 
Point, and joined the regular army before the war. He 
was a noble-looking man; his keen gray eyes sparkling 
with intellect, and his pale, thoughtful face surmounted 
by an Olympian brow, upon which was stamped the sig- 
net of true manhood. His taciturnity and absent-mind- 
edness were so great at times as to render his sanity 
doubtful. Poor fellow! There was no one in this wide 
world upon whom he might bestow the wealth of his 
affectionate heart. A mother's love and a father's care 
were unknown to him; yet it was whispered — and he 
knew it — that his mother lived, and that he was the only 
lineal descendant of General Morgan, the "Old Wagoner" 
of Revolutionary memory. He was killed in his first 
battle, and few of his regiment ever returned to chase 
away the shadows left upon the threshold by their de- 
parture. Such is war; God help us to appreciate the 
blessings of peace ! 



80 Julia A. Tevis. 

How many hearts utter this prayer ! and yet we glory 
in the prestige that surrounds a successful warrior. His 
garments may be rolled in blood, and his pathway strewn 
with mementos of human suffering; but no matter — he 
has achieved great victories. A thrill of horror may 
spread through sensitive hearts, mingled with agony, 
grief, and indignation at the devastations of war, the 
sufferings of age and innocence, and the violation of 
humanity, honor, and virtue ; yet with the multitude all 
this is forgotten in the glory of illuminations and the in- 
toxication of victory. War may be sometimes necessary; 
but, alas, how sad the necessity! How cruel the results, 
even though the object for which it is undertaken be a 
laudable one ! The arts and sciences, and whatever might 
be expected to flourish from intellectual culture in times 
of peace, wither under the influence of war. Thus a 
Christian nation and an enlightened people should not 
only deprecate it as the greatest evil, but never under- 
take it except to show the world that the tree of liberty 
can only flourish in the genial atmosphere of freedom, 
the natural aliment of which is the general intelligence 
of the people. Knowledge is not merely the parent of 
liberty, but constitutes an element of its nature, and is 
as essential to its existence as the air is to animal life. 
Every philanthropic effort that is made, every peaceful 
act that is done for the regeneration of man, elevates him 
in the scale of improvement, and advances him to that 
state in which moral force shall triumph over the physical 
and animal. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 8i 



Chapter IV. 

We removed to the District of Columbia in Novem- 
ber, 1813, locating in Georgetown. Here I saw 
the first illumination I ever witnessed. The whole town, 
as well as Washington, was one blaze of light, in honor of 
General Harrison's victory over the British and Indians 
at the battle of the Thames, as well as the brilliant vic- 
tory of Commodore Perry on Lake Erie, which just pre- 
ceded it. Our little navy had crowned itself Avith laurels 
in its ocean fights, but Harrison's victory followed a suc- 
cession of disasters by land. The death of Tecumseh in 
the battle of the Thames was also hailed with great joy 
by the nation, as it deeply depressed the Indians, who had 
become exceedingly fierce. Tecumseh was a host in him- 
self; and had his lot been cast under favorable circum- 
stances his powerful mind and heroic soul would have 
distinguished him, not only as a warrior, but as an orator 
and statesman. 

The first Christmas spent in our new home was marked 
by a sad event, the remembrance of which a whole life- 
time can not efface. Our new and handsome house was 
pleasantly situated in an eligible part of the town, and 
the last piece of furniture had been arranged in our parlor 
on Christmas Eve. We were rendered completely happy 
by having all the family at home. With what undis- 
guised admiration we children ran from room to room,, 
clapping our hands with joy as we examined the beauti- 
ful crimson curtains hanging in ample folds, and glowing 



82 Julia A. Tevis. 

in the light of a bright wood fire burning on the hearth. 
How resplendent the tall brass andirons looked! How 
warm and soft the rich carpeting that covered the floor! 
And then the large mantle-glass, reflecting the dancing 
figures of happy children, who were extravagantly gay 
with the joy of a new-found home, and with Christmas 
just on the threshold! The brief past had no regrets to 
fling across our minds. 

"Time flies fast, while laughing childhood throws 
Handfuls of roses at him as he goes." 

We were up late, arranging Christmas presents for the 
morrow, my busy, happy mother allowing me to aid her 
in all her preparations. After all was completed, we re- 
tired to our comfortable beds and slept until aroused by 
the awful cry of, Fire ! fire ! The prolonged echo thrilled 
through every heart. It was just at the hour when silence 
reigns supreme in the deserted streets. The watchman, 
who commenced his rounds when "night and morning 
meet," had called the hours of one, two, three, and retired 
from our vicinity, when a servant-girl, dismissed the day 
before for bad conduct, fired one of the out-buildings — 
applying the torch in such a manner as to secure the 
fulfillment of her purpose. The children were all above 
stairs, my father and mother below, when the thrilling 
cry was heard. They both rushed up-stairs, but were 
lost in the dense smoke before they could reach our 
sleeping apartment. Lurid flames, playing against the 
windows, awakened me, and my terrific screams led them 
at last to the spot, where they found us scrambling about 
on the floor. I had pulled my little sisters out of bed, 
and was seeking my own clothes. At last I succeeded 
in getting on my dress wrong-side-outwards; but neither 
shoes nor stockings could be found, nor any garments for 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 83 

my little charge — both of whom, however, I thoughtfully- 
covered with a blanket. Just at this moment my mother 
rushed towards us, took the two in her arms, and I fol- 
lowed, dragging another after me. How we got down- 
stairs I never knew. My next recollection was, standing 
on the cold pavement with my bare feet, among the rest 
of the family, who had all escaped. 

By this time friends had gathered around us, and we 
were hurried over the frozen ground, and soon sheltered 
under a friendly roof about a square from our own. My 
father, as soon as he knew we were all safe, turned his 
attention to the stable, where there were several fine 
horses fastened in the stalls. There he was near losing 
his life in attempting to rescue, for the second time, a 
favorite horse, that had rushed again into the flames. He 
escaped, however, and the horse too ; but he was so 
blackened by the smoke and scorched by the flame as 
almost to render his identity doubtful to those around 
him. His escape made us so thankful that we hardly 
thought of mourning over the loss of property. Much 
of the furniture was destroyed by the recklessness of 
those who tried to save it. Glass, china, and mirrors 
were indiscriminately pitched out of the window, and 
man)- things broken to pieces, as if the only care was to 
keep them out of the fire. 

One thing connected with this fire would seem, in 
these days of steam power, very slow. Two lines were 
formed reaching" to the river, from whence the water was 
brought, the weather being so cold that no water could 
be obtained from the pumps. Through one line the 
empty buckets were passed down, and returned through 
the other full of water. Police officers strode up and 
down the streets, compelling every looker-on to fall into 



84 Julia A. Tevis. 

the ranks. The house burned down ; and the fact is, 
under the system pursued, I never knew one saved. 

When the whole was over my father looked as calm 
as if nothing unusual had happened. The fiery ordeal 
had brought no shadow to his brow, because not one 
of his precious family was lost. "I have," said he, 
as he placed his hand upon his waistcoat pocket, "but 
one dollar and a half in cash; but I am rich in the pos- 
session of all my loved ones." 

Energy, industry, and economy, with the blessing of 
God, soon restored to us the necessaries and comforts 
of life. 

Happy in spite of external circumstances, my naturally 
buoyant disposition "gave care to the winds." My elas- 
tic temperament rebounded after the most intense press- 
ure. I could not realize that there was any thing but 
beauty in the present and pleasure in the future. 

My education was continued in Georgetown under the 
care of two excellent teachers, Mr. and Mrs. Simpson. 
A considerable portion of my time was devoted to music, 
drawing, and French, with various kinds of embroidery. 
The girls in this school wrought the most elaborate sam- 
plers with a variety of stitches, and bordered them with 
pinks, roses, and morning-glories, and sometimes, when 
the canvas was large enough, with the name and age of 
every member of the family. We did not buy French- 
worked collars then, but embroidered them for ourselves, 
and some of them were exquisite specimens of the finest 
needle-work; and the skirts of our white muslin dresses 
were wrought, frequently, half a yard in depth. 

One interesting incident then, and pleasant to remem- 
ber now, occurs to me. I was standing with a group of 
girls near a deep-toned piano, listening to some fine airs 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 85 

played by Mr. Simpson, when Miss Bowie, one of the 
grown pupils, stepped in with the "Star-spangled Ban- 
ner" set to music. This was a charming advent to us, 
as we had heard of the piece, but had not before seen it. 
Every body's patriotism was at full tide then, as it was 
soon after the bombardment of Fort M' Henry and our 
successful repulse of the British at Baltimore. Mr. Simp- 
son was an enthusiast in both music and patriotism ; and 
the chords vibrated under his touch, sending forth peals 
of harmony that made the welkin ring. He seemed in- 
spired to the very ends of his fingers. A dozen girls 
soon struck in with their choral voices, making the whole 
house resound with the music. A crowd of little boys 
collected around the front door and at the window, and a 
scene presented itself such as one might have expected 
among the French with their "Marseillaise." 

How true it is that the fire of patriotism is often 
stirred into a flame, even from the ashes of despondency, 
by national airs! The "Star-spangled Banner" should be 
a consecrated song to every American heart, connected 
as it is with an event so thrilling in character — so marked 
among the honorable achievements of this nation, when 
the States of the Union stood up before the world, "dis- 
tinct like the billow, but one like the sea" — when that 
bold, enterprising spirit that gave us a rank among the 
nations of the earth was abroad throughout the whole 
land. The powerful effect produced by this soul-stirring 
song was not owing to any particular merit in the com- 
position, but to the recollection of something noble in 
the character of a young and heroic nation successfully 
struggling against the invasion of a mighty people for 
life, freedom, and domestic happiness. 

The influence of association is strongly felt in giving 



86 Julia A. Tevis. 

strength to patriotism, in the favorite national war-songs 
of every country. Witness the success of Tyrtaeus, 
whom the Athenians, in derision, sent at the command 
of the Oracle to Sparta during the second Messenian 
war. He was a poor schoolmaster, of no reputation, 
short, lame, and blind of one eye; but he possessed a 
manly and elevated soul, and so inspired the Spartans by 
his thrilling martial strains, that the Messenians were 
reduced to subjection. For these services the Spartans 
treated him with great respect, and granted him the 
rights of citizenship. The war poems of Tyrtaeus were 
ever after held in great repute by the Ancients, who 
placed him by the side of Homer as a heroic poet. 

It was during my residence in Georgetown that the 
fiercest conflicts of the war of 1812 occurred. An inci- 
dent connected with this war impressed me deeply, and 
gave me a terrific idea of mobs. Every well read person 
is familiar with the history of the bloody drama enacted 
in Baltimore, when the brave General Lingan was killed 
by an infuriated mob, though he begged so piteously 
that his life might be spared for the sake of his wife and 
children. He besought them to remember how man- 
fully he had fought for his country in the "old war;" 
but his voice was scarcely heard amid the roar of those 
wild beasts, who almost tore him to pieces. General 
Lee (Light Horse Harry) and several other Revolutionary 
patriots were so injured by the same mob that they died 
soon after. They were opposed to the war. 

Mrs. Lingan, Avith her family, was brought imme- 
diately by sympathizing friends to Georgetown. Never 
shall I forget the appearance of that mourning widow. 
Her tall, dignified form enveloped in sable garments; her 
two daughters accompanying her, reminded me of Naomi 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 87 

returning sorrowfully to her own people, to hide her 
bowed head and stricken heart among friends, who vied 
in kindness to the untimely bereaved. 

This event, like many others, is rendered deeply in- 
teresting by a glimpse into the mysterious long time ago. 
The circumstances attending the Baltimore mob having 
been so lightly touched upon by historians, it will, doubt- 
less, be interesting to my readers to have a more par- 
ticular account of the matter from one who was living 
so near the scene of action. War was declared on the 
1 8th of June, 1812. The immediate effect of this meas- 
ure was a violent exasperation of parties. The friends 
of the Government applauded the act as spirited and pa- 
triotic — the opposition condemned it as unnecessary, 
unjustifiable, and impolitic. In the New England States, 
particularly, where the "Revolutionary War" found ar- 
dent and active supporters, a decided opposition was 
manifested. They conceded that abundant provocation 
had been given, but denied the expediency, as the nation 
was not sufficiently prepared for the conflict. But in 
many of our large cities the news was received with 
extravagant demonstrations of joy. In Baltimore, espe- 
cially, the popular voice was strongly in favor of it, and 
the first announcement created the wildest excitement. 
Two great parties convulsed the country at that time. 
They were so evenly balanced that it was difficult to 
determine the preponderant element. The Democrats 
were powerful, but the Federalists were determined. 
Distinguished congressmen pleaded in favor of the war; 
and among them stood conspicuous the talented young 
Kentuckian, Henry Clay, pledging, to the utmost of 
its ability, the support of his own State to the Presi- 
dent. Orators harangued the people, and their burning 



88 Julia A. Tevis. 

eloquence increased the fervor of their shouts for "Free 
Trade and Sailor's Rights." Oh, these were thrilling 
times! To warm the life blood and fan the fires of 
patriotism was the broad road to distinction. The Demo- 
crats were denounced as reckless demagogues by the 
opposition, who dreaded the rekindling of the fires of the 
Revolution, which had just been extinguished by the 
blood of multiplied thousands; but there was no staying 
the surging waves of the popular voice. The Demo- 
cratic Republicans triumphed, and rejoiced in their signal 
success. Many noble patriots of unimpeachable integ- 
rity, and brave officers who had. served their country well 
and faithfully, were conscientious Federalists. One of 
these was Alexander Hanson, who edited a paper in 
Baltimore called the Fedei-al Republican. He ventured to 
indulge in some severe strictures on the conduct of the 
Government. The consequence was, his printing-office 
was destroyed by the populace, and he obliged to fly the 
city. Hanson was a bold man, and determined not to be 
put down; he therefore returned to Baltimore with a 
party of friends who had volunteered to aid him in for- 
cibly defending his house. General Henry Lee, who 
happened to be in the city when the riots commenced, 
was a personal friend of the editor, and, with character- 
istic impetuosity, offered his services against the mob. 
They prepared for an attack by arming themselves and 
barricading the house. The enraged mob attacked the 
building with great fury, and even brought a cannon to 
bear in the assault. The besieged defended themselves 
coolly and successfully. The result was that two of the 
assailants were killed and a number wounded, which so 
exasperated the crowd that but for the arrival of the city 
military Hanson and his friends would, in all probability, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 89 

have been torn to pieces. The magistrates came for- 
ward and interceded between the two parties — at first 
both were firm, but finally Hanson and his friends gave 
themselves up to the authorities, and were lodged in jail 
for safety. There was a temporary but a deceitful 
calm ; the mob was not appeased, they thirsted for blood. 
During the night, while the "Argus" of the law slept, 
vainly supposing that a few timid guards would secure 
the safety of the prisoners, the storm gathered strength, 
and anon there came a distinct murmur on the night 
breeze. It soon increased to an audible sound, and 
"down with the traitors" was heard on every side. 
Frequent additions had swelled the numbers of the riot- 
ers, and they were heard sweeping through the streets 
of the city onward and still onward — no earthly power 
could check their mad career. They had been system- 
atically organized by their leaders, and uniformed by 
having their coats turned wrong side out. The jail was 
broken open, and with waving torches and flashing wea- 
pons they sought their victims with fierce cries and bitter 
denunciations from cell to cell. A few of the unfortu- 
nate men broke through the crowd and escaped ; the 
others were beaten and thrown down the steps of the 
prison into the street. The wounded would probably 
have all been killed had it not been for a humane phys- 
ician who, turning his own coat wrong side out, mingled 
with the mob, and begged the bodies of those apparently 
dead for dissection. Mr. Hanson, upon whom every 
species of brutality had been practiced, lay helpless and 
as if dead upon the stone pavement. One ruffian waved 
a torchlight before his eyes and pierced his finger 
through and through with a penknife ; yet by the mighty 
power of his will, the still conscious man showed no signs 



9o . Julia A. Tevis. 

of life. Just at this period came the good Samaritan to 
his rescue; who, positively asserting that he was dead, 
dragged him aside, gave him a drink of brandy from a 
flask in his pocket, and when sufficiently revived helped 
him to turn his coat, and escaped with him. It is a won- 
derful fact, and a decided proof of the indomitable obsti- 
nacy resulting from a conviction of duty that Mr. Han- 
son, after being driven from Baltimore by this fearful 
tragedy, established his printing-press in Georgetown, 
District of Columbia, and continued to publish his paper 
during the whole war. 

The revolution of 'y6 was a contest of doctrine. It 
resulted in the triumph of a principle — the sovereignty of 
the people. The permanence of this triumph was an 
unworked problem, until the violent concussion of 1812 
shook the newly-formed Government to its very center. 
This shock only seemed to settle its foundation stones 
more deeply and firmly, and taught the "sea-girt isle" 
that we were not unworthy our noble ancestors, who 
proudly felt themselves a part of 

"That happy race of men, that little world, 
That precious gem set in a silver sea." 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 91 



Chapter V. 

The Winter of 1813 was protracted, and unusually- 
severe. Terrible suffering resulted from impeded 
circulation in trade and commerce, and our newly-estab- 
lished Government, though firm, energetic, and untiring 
in its efforts to relieve the people, was yet too limited in 
its resources to do much more than provide for the 
army. From eighteen to twenty dollars was the price 
per cord for firewood. Coal was scarcely known as fuel 
in private families. 

The country round about Washington and in the 
immediate vicinity of Georgetown was sterile to a prov- 
erb, and the market had been supplied from the more 
fertile counties in Virginia and Maryland; but now the 
river was frozen, and the roads almost impassable. Thus 
all classes suffered — but the poor especially. Pinched 
faces and tattered garments met the eye at every corner 
of the streets; and many a poor little half frozen child 
crept into our kitchen daily, begging for cold victuals 
and the privilege of getting one good warming during 
the twenty-four hours by the glow of a hospitable fire. 
How deeply are those sad scenes engraven on my 
memory, and it is not an exaggeration to say that these 
painful impressions and others connected with the horrors 
of that war have followed me through life; and I shud- 
der, even now, as I think of them. For three years 
every breeze bore upon its wings the wail of the widow 
and the orphan, and the blood of thousands- marked the 



92 Julia A. Tevis. 

footsteps of invasion; burning cities lighted armies to 
indiscriminate plunder, and told of the wide-spread des- 
olation on the Atlantic shores. 

My youngest brother, and the youngest child of my 
parents, was called William Henry Harrison, and lived 
to prove himself worthy the heroic name he bore. To 
this merry-hearted, laughter-loving brother we were all 
much attached, and amply did he repay our love and 
devotion. My mother's heart was bound up in the 
child; and when after the lapse of many years she be- 
came a widow, he was still more the idol of her affec- 
tions. He finally went to Texas, and did good service 
in helping that State throw off the Mexican yoke. When 
its independence was fully established, being fond of ad- 
venture and reckless of his own life, he started again in 
pursuit of further excitement, and after leading for some 
years a roving life, suffering from exposure and sickness 
and reverse of fortune, he lost his life in attempting to 
swim across the River Brazos. My mother had passed 
away to her home in heaven before the news of his death 
reached us. It was well — she was saved one of the most 
sorrowful pangs a mother's heart can feel. 

My oldest brother, Quin, who had the advantage of 
superior teachers, was well and thoroughly educated, and 
was said to be a classical scholar of no mean atainments. 
To him I was fondly attached — the playfellow of my early 
years, the friend and companion of my girlhood. We 
read together the legends of olden times, and lived in an 
enchanted world, rife with that pure, unmingled fiction 
which left no injury behind, but rather induced a love of 
reading. We laughed at the merry ride of "John Gilpin," 
and felt the strongest sympathy for the "Babes in the 
Wood," over whose fate we shed many tears; and we 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 93 

formed an attachment for the robin red-breast that so 
kindly covered the dead babies with leaves. O, how we 
reveled in a bright new story-book, which we both pre- 
ferred to any other gift! We had a dear little corner 
in my mother's room, which, by the by, was always one 
of the largest on the ground floor — for "we were many," 
and she would have her children much about her ; and 
Avhen we were tired of reading we walked together through 
the flower-gardens, and over the green hills called George- 
town Heights. Beautiful, almost sublime, in every season, 
were these crowning glories of the pretty little city. 
There were goodly green meadows, spangled with starry 
eyes, making the loveliest play-grounds and the sweetest 
trysting-spots for the school-children. 

It was a sad parting when my brother, young in years, 
entered the regular army. He was eighteen when a 
lieutenancy was offered him in the Twelfth Regiment, 
which was accepted, much to the regret of the whole 
family, and to my mother a life-long sorrow. He was 
her firstborn and the darling of her heart, and she had 
fondly hoped to see him established as a useful citizen in 
private life. His choice of the army left a shadow upon 
our household which was never entirely dissipated ; for 
though he had no battles to fight, having commenced his 
career after the war closed, yet with all his tender sym- 
pathies, and warm, gushing affections for home, we know 
he could not be happy forever separated from his family. 
He was generous, ardent, and brave; soon formed many 
friendships, and rose rapidly to offices of honor and 
profit; but in less than three short years he died far 
away from home and friends, in Florida, where his regi- 
ment was stationed. 

Many touching incidents of generous self-denial and 

7 



94 Julia A. Tevis. 

brotherly kindness, manifested to the soldiers under his 
command, are written in legible characters upon my heart 
and memory. Of all duties, the hardest is to forget a 
great sorrow. The very effort to forget teaches us to 
remember. It was as the friend and companion of this 
brother on one of his short visits home, in 1817, that I 
first saw General Sam. Houston. He was an officer in 
the same regiment — a young man of fine appearance, 
tall, erect, and well-proportioned, with agreeable manners. 
I remember him well, because my brother was much at- 
tached to him. Thirty-five years afterwards I met him 
in Lexington, attending the funeral obsequies of Henry 
Clay. Time had dealt lightly with him; he had not lost 
his soldierly bearing, and seemed yet in the vigor of 
manhood, though his hair and beard were frosted by the 
passing years. 

In connection with General Houston I am reminded 
of Colonel Thornton Posey, who was intimately associ- 
ated with my brother during his last visit to the home 
circle in Washington. This dear brother, not twenty 
years old, held the honorable position of first lieutenant 
in Colonel Posey's regiment. His youth and inexperience 
rendered him liable to many temptations "on the tented 
field," from which he was shielded by his noble colonel. 
The result was a sincere friendship, which, from its deli- 
cacy and beauty, its depth of devotion and unfailing ten- 
derness, might be said to be like that of David and Jon- 
athan. The effect upon each was like the brightening 
and softening radiance with which the pencil of Nature 
paints the West at sunset. 

Colonel Posey had nobly distinguished himself in the 
war of 18 1 2, and was retained in the peace establishment 
as a highly esteemed and trustworthy officer. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 95 

I first met him at a social party given at our own 
house to the officers of his regiment. He was the honored 
guest of the evening, and of course received much atten- 
tion from the family. His appearance was prepossessing. 
A lofty forehead, finely cut features, a large, sensible 
mouth, flexible and expressive, but indicative of strong 
resolution, marked his individuality. His proud, pale 
face and dignified bearing fixed the attention of every 
observer. When drawn into conversation his noble brow 
seemed to expand, and thought sat visibly upon it, while 
a sweet, melancholy smile lit up his whole countenance, 
like that which gleams on the face of Nature when, after 
a stormy day, the sun bursts forth for a moment and then 
buries itself in the darkness of night. His conversation 
displayed an acute and cultivated intellect, and his engag- 
ing manners and delicate politeness as well fitted him for 
the courtly drawing-room as his soldierly bearing and 
bravery for the camp and battle-field. The feeling of 
interest awakened then deepened as our acquaintance 
ripened, and our admiration matured into esteem and 
respect. On the evening referred to, after he had passed 
through the usual polite observances of the occasion, he 
withdrew from the gay crowd promenading through the 
rooms, and remained in a recess apart, apparently occu- 
pied with his own deep thoughts, like one standing on 
the misty border- land which lies between this life and the 
world of shadows. 

The sad circumstance that had cast a shadow on his 
pathway, and left an incurable wound in his heart, was 
explained to us afterwards, brightening his character in 
our estimation, and securing increased sympathy with 
him. He had been compelled in self-defense to take the 
life of a subordinate officer, who, having frequently 



g6 Julia A. Tevis. 

threatened and constantly sought an opportunity to kill 
him, had at last assailed him when alone, and under cir- 
cumstances which left him no alternative but to take his 
life. He was tried, and honorably acquitted — the world 
justifying the act. But, exquisitely organized as he was, 
every pulse of his heart throbbing with benevolence, and 
perhaps too sensitive and conscientious, he was over- 
powered with the reflection of having destroyed a human 
life, and his soul was filled with horror at the necessity 
which forced him to the deed. His admirable powers of 
intellect and greatness of soul had elevated him among 
his fellow-men, and on the battle-field he had won a name 
above all hereditary titles — the bravest among the brave. 
But this one sad event drew a dark cloud over all his 
present and future. 

Unfitted by his genius for the ordinary routine of 
camp life in the peace establishment, he embraced the 
first opportunity to battle again in the cause of freedom. 
He joined General M'Gregor in an expedition against 
Amelia Island, in South America. His generous and 
gallant soul would gladly have been instrumental in rais- 
ing the banners of liberty over an enslaved land ; but 
when he found that a bold military expedition was about 
to degenerate into a privateering enterprise, he threw up 
his commission, and returned to the United States, where 
he died of bilious fever, at Wilmington, North Carolina. 
He went to his grave honored and lamented, and deserves 
to be remembered by his country as long as -the voice of 
Liberty is heard in the land. 

Oh, the days that are no more! 

"Each fainter trace that memory holds 
So fondly of departed years, 
In one broad glance the soul beholds, 
And all that was at once appears." 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 97 

Incidents fraught with cherished recollections, the ris- 
ing forms of those I loved and admired in the irrecovera- 
ble long-ago, an unexpected meeting with a dear friend, 
the remembrance of a look even, come sometimes to me 
with a peculiar power, fresh as if it were but yesterday. 

The treasures of memory are so much saved from the 
wreck of life, and once possessed they are ours forever. 
That which has happened becomes a part of our lives, and 
though for the time forgotten or overlooked, it yet rests 
there, in the storehouse of the mind, ready when the 
right chord is touched to start forth, mellowed, perhaps, 
though not weakened, by the lapse of time. Whatever 
may be our future, the memory of life's past joys is full 
of unspeakable comforts, and present griefs have often an 
added pang from such remembrances. 

"Sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things." 

Washington fifty years ago was a delightful retreat, full 
of bewildering loveliness. I loved to ramble over the 
grounds surrounding the magnificent old capitol and revel 
in its beauties — the beauty of lovely skies, luxuriant 
trees, rich herbage, and myriads of bright flowers. The 
hall windows of the quaint old building commanded an 
enchanting view of hill and plain, and at the end of an 
avenue of poplars a mile long could be seen the simple, 
noble mansion designed for the President of the United 
States — a fitting habitation for the executive of this great 
republic. In the distance, her feet laved in the gleaming 
waters of the Potomac, was the little city of Georgetown, 
her green hills crowned with groups of noble trees, some 
of them of ancient date, looking like the natural guard- 
ians of the charming country-seats scattered in the vicinity. 

The Summer following the events just related was spent 



98 Julia A. Tevis. 

by our family in sweet seclusion, which united a loving 
household more closely together. It was the last I ever 
spent here, and it is rife with some of the sweetest recol- 
lections and tenderest associations of this early home of 
my heart. The crowd of strangers, office-seekers, and 
resident ministers, with their gay retinues, had gone. 
After the adjournment of Congress the city was exceed- 
ingly dull to these pleasure-seekers. A strange atmos- 
phere of repose pervaded the place. There was oppor- 
tunity to enjoy life's leisure in its fullest sense. 

My father had gone to the far West on business, and 
my two older brothers being away, I was left to the con- 
stant companionship of my mother, which I had been 
deprived of by my long absence at school. Even at this 
remote period my heart thrills at the recollection of this 
time — the quiet readings, the solemn Scripture teach- 
ings, which fell like the dews of heaven into my young 
heart, and I acknowledge with tearful thankfulness the 
sweet privilege then enjoyed. 

The taking of Washington City in 1814 was marked 
by many interesting circumstances and unwritten inci- 
dents, affecting to the heart and worth remembering. 
August 24, 1 8 14, was one of the sultriest of Sum- 
mer days. The British, after a rapid march across the 
country, reached Bladensburg, eight miles from Wash- 
ington, in the hottest part of the afternoon. A small 
number of hastily collected troops were prepared to meet 
the foe; yet, so exhausted were the way-worn British 
soldiers, that even these, few as they were, would have 
been sufficient to keep them out of Washington had 
there been any order or discipline. As it was, they were 
driven, fighting as they retreated, in great confusion to 
the capital. Their pursuers, however, were held at bay, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 99 

for a short time, by the gallant General Winder, who, not 
being supported, was compelled to yield to the enemy, 
whose numbers more than quadrupled his own. The 
British commanders, flushed with success, drove the 
panic-stricken Americans before them, and entered the 
city amid the tumult and glitter of an army, with flying 
colors and beating drums. Dreading the mighty desola- 
tion which threatened them, the President and the Cabi- 
net, with the principal citizens, fled precipitately through 
Georgetown and across the Potomac. Nothing was seen 
but people anxious to escape the dreaded catastrophe. 
Carriages, wagons, carts, vehicles of every description, 
crowded with women and children; servants hurrying in 
every direction, carrying away what goods and chattels 
they were able to bear; amid the wildest confusion of 
men on horseback and exhausted stragglers from the 
battle-field, made up a moving panorama for miles. It 
was a melancholy sight to behold, some wringing their 
hands and wailing, as if they were leaving behind all that 
made life valuable, and turning again and again to take 
a last glimpse of home; while others bitterly denounced 
their own selfish flight, forsaking friends who absolutely 
refused to leave. 

The crowd swept on, wave after wave; but the most 
melancholy object among them was the President of the 
United States, whose delicate frame and feeble health 
might have rendered him an object of compassion, had 
he been an isolated man. Like poor David, when he 
fled from Jerusalem before his rebellious son, there were 
none to cry "God bless him." Yet Mr. Madison was 
worthy, for he had proved himself a patriot and an emi- 
nent statesman. The blame of this awful reverse rested 
upon the Secretary of War, whose name has been handed 



ioo Julia A. Tevis. 

down to posterity shrouded in darkness. He might have 
prevented a deed equally disgraceful to England and to 
this country. He was either a traitor or totally unfit for 
his responsible office. 

My father and mother tarried at home during this 
awful visitation, but all the rest of the family had been 
sent into the country some days previous. Every farm- 
house was filled with supernumerary tenants, while many 
of the fugitives were sheltered in tents or haunted the 
skirts of the woods, eagerly detaining every passer-by 
with inquiries after the news. I was on a visit near Mar- 
tinsburg, Virginia, enduring, for two weeks, the misery 
of the most exaggerated reports. 

Mrs. Madison distinguished herself during these trou- 
bles by her admirable firmness and superior womanly 
tact. Nature had lavished upon her more of the mate- 
rials of happiness and greatness than are usually found in 
women who sway the fashionable world. She sustained 
herself nobly, and from her own quiet elevation of char- 
acter Avatched calmly the disastrous rout, and sank not, for 
one moment, into despondency. Mr. Madison might have 
been overborne by the triumph of his enemies, had she not 
by her own self-possession inspired him with an energy 
that enabled him to rise superior to his misfortunes. I do 
not believe the executive office has ever been filled by 
a worthier man or a better statesman since the days of 
Washington than James Madison ; nor was there ever a 
presiding genius in the White House more beloved, ad- 
mired, and respected than his elegant and graceful wife. 

A few of the citizens of Washington remained in their 
own homes with a view of saving their property if possi- 
ble. I heard a lady by the name of Coolidge relate an 
adventure, which I think worth recording. She had sent 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 



ioi 



her whole family into the country and remained alone in 
her house, which was a large and handsome building at 
the entrance of Pennsylvania Avenue, and in the imme- 
diate vicinity of the President's mansion. She stood on 
her front door-step while the retreating army passed 
through with the redcoats close at their heels. She had 
prepared a tub of cool water, from which she gave a cup 
to each flying American soldier, and occasionally to a 
poor redcoat, whose exhaustion from fatigue and heat 
was pitiful to behold. About dark several British of- 
ficers, apparently of high rank, halted before her door 
and asked for refreshments — demanding, imperatively, 
that a hot supper should be immediately prepared for 
them. She declined upon the plea that he had nothing 
in the house nor in the larder. They insisted, until at 
last she positively refused, adding, that if she had any 
thing to give it should be to her own people. Upon 
this a tall man, of majestic carriage and splendidly 
mounted, who, she afterwards learned, was General Ross, 
assured her that, by attending to their request, she would 
not only save her own house from being plundered or 
burnt, but those of her neighbors, if they would aid her 
in supplying what she could not furnish ; besides which, 
she should be handsomely paid. 

Supper was prepared, and she was invited to preside. 
The conversation was not only agreeable, but cheerful, 
almost to merriment among the guests. Before the meal 
was finished, however, General Ross turned suddenly to 
Mrs. Coolidge, and asked what was the opinion of the 
Americans in reference to Admiral Cockburn. The lady, 
quite at her ease through the politeness of the officers, 
replied, "What! the pirate Cockburn? Why, they re- 
gard him as a mere chicken stealer — a robber of hen 



102 Julia A. Tevis. 

roosts. He has shown such an expertness in these feats 
as would throw all the tricks of schoolboys and college 
rogues in the shade. He certainly is a master forager, 
and that is all he is fit for." She had scarce finished the 
sentence when an officer on her right, striking the table 
with his clenched fist, and springing to his feet, stepped 
up to General Ross and whispered something in his ear; 
upon which the General' instantly arose, and introduced, 
with the utmost formality, "Admiral Cockburn, of the 
British Navy." Mrs. Coolidge was near fainting, expect- 
ing instant death for her temerity; but General Ross 
quieted her fears, and requested the indignant Admiral 
to withdraw his hand from the hilt of his sword, which, 
in his anger, he had firmly grasped, saying, "We do not 
war with ladies." The doughty Admiral, forgetting all 
etiquette and gentility, swore in the frenzied excitement 
of passion that he would finish his supper by the light 
of the President's burning house; upon which he rushed 
out with great precipitancy, and was soon seen striding 
onward, torch in hand, to carry his threat into execution ; 
and he was actually the prime mover in the vandalism 
that followed. It is said that he even stepped into the 
dining-room, while the building was on fire, and drank a 
glass of wine to the health of Mrs. Madison, whom he 
familiarly styled "Queen Dolly." 

General Ross was soon after killed at the battle of 
Baltimore, and every body regretted that it had not been 
Cockburn; the former possessing all the noble and gen- 
erous qualities of a gentleman and a soldier, the latter 
one of the meanest and most contemptible of mankind, 
who, had he been reared in heathen Rome, might have 
been a Nero. 

The cannon foundry near Georgetown, which had 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 103 

done so good service during the war, the British were 
bent on destroying before they left the district. It be- 
longed to a Mr. Foxall, a Wesleyan Methodist of the old 
stamp. This excellent man had been living in George- 
town ever since the close of the Revolution; and was as 
firm a patriot as though native born. A squad of sol- 
diers was on the line of march toward the foundry 
while the public buildings were burning. They had 
reached the bridge thrown over the little creek which 
separates Washington from Georgetown, when they were 
called to a sudden halt by a tremendous explosion. Soon 
after a courier came dashing up at full speed, warning 
them not to cross the bridge; that the explosion just 
heard was from Greenleaf's Point, a fort on the opposite 
side of the Potomac from Washington, recently vacated 
by the Americans. One hundred and fifty British sol- 
diers had been blown up, their mangled remains flying 
in every direction. The fact was, several barrels of pow- 
der had been thrown into a dry well by the garrison 
before leaving, to keep it from falling into the hands of 
the enemy. The detachment sent over to destroy the 
fort were dying of thirst, and one of the men threw 
a torch into the well to ascertain if it contained any 
water — hence the catastrophe. The troops marching to 
destroy the foundry were arrested in their course, for, 
not knowing the real cause of the explosion, it was sup- 
posed there might be torpedoes placed under the bridge 
for their destruction also; instead of proceeding, there- 
fore, to their destined work, they returned to the city in 
double quick time. 

The alarm spread rapidly among the invaders, and 
their whole army was immediately withdrawn, afraid 
even to tarry during the night, although the poor, 



104 Julia A. Tevis. 

exhausted soldiers were dropping by the way from fatigue 
and hunger. 

Mr. Foxall's foundry was saved, and the good old vet- 
eran of the cross, true to his promise in prayer to God 
for the safety of his property and the lives of his work- 
men, forthwith built a church in Washington City, which 
is yet a standing monument of his faithfulness. This 
church is called the "Foundry," in commemoration of 
the event just related. If I mistake not, this was the 
first Methodist church erected in Washington. It was 
completely finished and furnished, even to the Bible and 
hymn-book, by Mr. Foxall alone : 

"A leaf of gold, 
Glowing in the warm book of gratitude." 

Long after the close of the war, this pious old Wes- 
leyan and his prim-looking wife — they had no children — 
might be seen walking side by side to this goodly church, 
where an excellent congregation still continues to worship. 

On the night that witnessed the burning of the public 
buildings a fearful hurricane raged for some time with 
intense fury ; roofs were blown off; shingles flew in every 
direction, like paper; chimneys fell, cottages were blown 
over, and there is no telling when the conflagration would 
have ended, had it not been for the drenching rain that 
followed. A few days after, some British ships visited 
Alexandria, and extorted an enormous ransom from the 
town, whence all our troops had been withdrawn. The 
whole surrounding country lay as much at their mercy 
as if entirely without inhabitants. For a few hours the 
red -coats paraded through the town, appropriating to 
themselves whatever they liked, notwithstanding the pre- 
vious compact. This was not war, but devastation. 

An incident occurred durine this time illustrating the 



Sixty Years in a School-room. . 105 

courage and patriotism of a woman who kept a variety 
shop. A british officer, entering her store, asked: 

"Have you a husband or sons? If so, where are 
they?" 

"•I have a husband and two sons, who are trying to 
defend their country at the risk of their lives; and I hope 
you may meet them yet." 

"Indeed! and you have here an instrument of war?" 
striking a drum which lay on the counter. 

"And here is another," she replied, taking a loaded 
pistol from a shelf; "and if you dare take another article 
in this shop you shall receive its contents." 

Her hand was on the trigger. The officer involunta- 
rily stepped back, saying: 

"Put aside your weapon, madam. If your men had 
manifested as much firmness you might have been spared 
the devastation we have accomplished in your country." 

It is well known that the battle of New Orleans was 
fought after peace was ratified by our Commissioners at 
Ghent, the news of which did not reach the United States 
until after the eighth of January. The universal joy felt 
throughout the whole country was scarcely less than that 
realized at the close of the Revolution. 

General Jackson and his wife made their advent at 
Washington soon after, and created quite a sensation 
among the elite of that day. Mrs. Jackson, though un- 
educated, was an amiable Christian woman; and, while 
laughed at for her grammatical blunders, made herself 
loved for her kindness, and admired for her unsophisti- 
cated manners. The General, who even then bore the 
soubriquet of "Old Hickory, " was cordially acknowl- 
edged as a noble, high-hearted man. 

I had the pleasure of witnessing a theatrical enter- 



106 Julia A. Tevis. 

tainment, prepared in honor of these distinguished guests 
of the nation. Their entrance into the theater was an- 
nounced by tremendous cheering. The General was tall, 
thin, and weather-beaten; but there was a Cassius-like 
firmness on his lip, and his brow was marked with the 
lines of thought and care. He was rather annoyed at 
being the observed of all observers, and oppressed by the 
attention that was paid him; while Mrs. Jackson, "fair, 
fat, and forty," with a good motherly look, seemed 
amused, and gazed with intense gratification at the dis- 
play made in honor of him in whom her soul was cen- 
tered. A flattering address by the marshal of the day 
covered the modest General with confusion, but elicited 
a few words of acknowledgment, which charmed by their 
unaffected simplicity. 

Banners, transparencies, etc., passed in rapid proces- 
sion across the stage, interluded with occasional cheering 
for the hero of New Orleans. The evening's entertain- 
ment concluded at last ; and the idol upon whose altar all 
this incense was poured seemed as much delighted at 
escaping the adulation by which he was surrounded as a 
tired school-boy from a lengthened exhibition, and as if 
he would have said: "I am weary of this paradeful non- 
sense. I 'd rather stand a siege, storm a battery, or charge 
a whole army, than encounter this again." 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 107 



Chapter VI. 

In 1 8 1 5 I was placed under the charge of an English 
lady of deep piety and superior education. Her 
institution was in full view of the President's house — 
only a few squares from it. There were no regular 
streets at this time in this city of magnificent distances 
except Pennsylvania Avenue. They were laid out, it is 
true, but not built up. The school -house stood on a 
slight eminence near the Potomac, commanding a fine 
view of this noble river for a considerable distance. 
Unconfined by brick houses, we had a glorious breathing 
space, over which swept the sweet morning zephyrs, 
whispering through the foliage of magnificent trees; and 
the evening breeze from the Potomac fanned our glowing 
cheeks as we raced over the lawn, stretching almost to 
the water's edge, or sat on the doorstep watching the 
soft rosy clouds at day's decline. 

Miss Taylor, our preceptress, was a dignified woman, 
eminently fitted for the charge of young girls ; but she 
had a younger sister, who at times assumed an authority 
over us which caused much dissatisfaction. Miss Char- 
lotte Taylor was loved and implicitly obeyed ; Miss Julia, 
the sister, was feared, disliked, and often disobeyed, with 
a hearty good will. 

Miss Taylor's father was an Englishman; his first wife 
died in England, leaving an only child, a daughter, who 
inherited a small property from her mother; and, being 
blessed with kind and wealthy relatives on the mother's 



io8 Julia A. Tevis. 

side, the father thought it not amiss to leave her with 
them, and come over to America to improve his own 
fortune. 

Here he married, and after some years was left a 
widower with three children — a daughter and two sons. 
A few more years, and the father died, leaving the chil- 
dred in a state of destitute orphanage. And now the 
excellent Miss Charlotte felt it a duty to forsake a luxu- 
rious English home, made pleasant by the dearest of 
relatives, and come, over to America, to take -charge of 
the three children, whom she loved and cared for as an 
elder sister should. 

The two boys entered the United States service — one 
the navy, the other the army. Miss Charlotte and her 
sister came to Washington, at the instance of friends, to 
open a school, which was for some years the very best in 
the place, the pupils being instructed carefully in all the 
requisites of a liberal education. Miss Charlotte's thor- 
ough attainments in literature, her accomplishments, com- 
bined with elegant manners and superior tact in commu- 
nicating knowledge, rendered her a model teacher. 

I can not contemplate the devotion of this heroic 
woman to her brothers and sister without exclaiming, 
"A noble -hearted, high-souled action and unwavering 
purpose lead to righteousness." Such, in woman, far 
exceeds the proudest achievements of man. Weakness 
and shrinking delicacy, so characteristic of the sex, are 
not the groundwork of heroic feminine action. Man has 
shrunk and paled in the hour of peril, and drawn back 
from anticipated danger, when woman has borne the 
burden without a murmur and with silent resignation. 
Thus the weak have triumphed over the strong. Many 
an unwritten life, lustrous with the grandeur of woman's 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 109 

noble deeds, will be found among the records of heaven. 
Heroism may exist in all its strength in the most delicate 
constitution, and it attains its greatest power and glory in 
large and glowing hearts. Such a woman was Miss Tay- 
lor. She endured privations, labored day and night, made 
sacrifices of an extraordinary nature, and finally died, — 
most probably a martyr to her sisterly devotion. 

The younger sister was one of the most unlovely of 
women. Fretful, proud, and impatient, with a temper at 
variance with every kindly feeling, and a mind perverted 
by vanity and selfishness. Fostered by the overweening 
indulgence of injudicious parents in early life, she was the 
torment of all around her, especially of her sister, whose 
good sense and amiability taught her that it was best 
to submit where she could not correct, and to leave open 
the safety-valve of passion, that there might not be an 
explosion. 

Some of the most pleasant reminiscences of this school 
are connected with my excellent and lovely young friend, 
Eliza Lane, three years my junior, and yet my intimate 
companion. And now, as my thoughts slowly unravel 
themselves from that class of memories in which she is 
involved, I see her beautiful head appearing like a glori- 
ous vision, covered with a profusion of auburn hair parted 
in rippling waves from a clear and lofty forehead. I look 
into deep and truthful eyes, and upon her fair face, 
warmed with the flushes of a tender heart, and my mind 
wanders to those joyous, happy days when Time flew so 
rapidly that his glittering pinions reflected the golden 
flood of morning, the azure of noon, and the glory of 
sunset, seemingly, without an interval. 

Indelibly impressed upon my mind are our rambles 
along the banks of the river, and our pleasant trysting- 



no Julia A. Tevis. 

spots near a little rivulet, where violets grew in abundance 
under the shade of some dwarf magnolias, the lotus fra- 
grance of whose milk white blossoms embalmed our 
bouquets, reminding us of those delicious climes we so 
loved to read and talk about. By the kindness of Miss 
Taylor, Eliza was permitted to spend many of her Sat- 
urday afternoons and half holidays with me in my own 
home, where she was very much loved. My father and 
mother took great delight in my "young David." She 
was a ray of sunshine wherever she went. 

She returned to her father's, in Pennsylvania, before I 
left Washington: and from that time until 1824 I heard 
nothing of her. What was my astonishment and delight 
to find her in Shelbyville ; thus strangely did we float 
together in life after a separation of years. She was per- 
manently settled here in the midst of a widely extended 
circle of relatives and friends, and here again we re- 
newed our loving and congenial intercourse. 

But to resume my narrative. We were permitted, 
while at school, to enter occasionally into society, always 
under suitable protection ; not as young ladies, but school- 
girls, to profit by what we saw and heard. My first 
and only public ball was the inauguration fete of Presi- 
dent Monroe. Eliza and I, under the escort of my 
father, and with my aunt for a cliaperone, were present 
at this august assembly. The impression made was 
that of an ostentatious display of wealth and splendor, 
little in accordance with the republican simplicity which 
should constitute the dignity of a nation so utterly re- 
jecting high sounding titles and oriental magnificence. 
The barbaric splendor of gold and jewels, glittering 
and dazzling through this whole exhibition, made us 
almost imagine that we had been rubbing Aladdin's 



Sixty Years in a School-room. hi 

lamp. Visions of beauty flitted before our eyes, and 
fascinated our young hearts ; clouds of lace and India 
muslin, in whose folds glittered the diamond and the 
ruby, danced up and down through this mysterious 
dream-land. 

Mrs. Madison was there, in the meridian of life. She 
had been brought up a Quakeress, and never lost the 
simplicity of her early tastes, though she improved the 
style of her dress by chaste and appropriate ornaments. 
She wore that night a black velvet robe with an exten- 
sive train, a handsome turban of light material, with a 
snowy plume that rested on her shoulder. A delicate 
tiara of pearls adorned her brow, which, with earrings 
and bracelets, completed her costume. Her almost tiny 
husband appeared in a suit of plain black. He was 
grave and dignified, and was not the least of the even- 
ing's attractions. 

The Spanish Minister, at that time, was remarkable 
as being the representative of the most contemptible 
Government of Europe. He was covered with stars and 
garters, gold lace and diamonds, looking for all the 
world, with his withered face, like a mummy done up 
in gold. His two daughters, fairer than Spanish girls 
usually are, with their lustrous black eyes and raven 
tresses, were real beauties. One of them, the Mar- 
chioness de Heredia, was married by proxy in Philadel- 
phia, her husband being in Spain at the time. The father 
hastened the marriage that the Marquis, his son-in-law, 
might help bear the expenses of their establishment 
in Washington. 

I was particularly impressed with the simplicity that 
marked the toilet of the young girls of the European 
aristocracy. Here England, France, Spain, Portugal, 



ii2 Julia A. Tevis. 

Russia, and, indeed, every important country of Europe 
was represented. The graceful girl, with her sunny curls 
and face radiant with the reflections of an innocent 
heart; the noble and the gifted of early manhood, with 
the middle-aged and the old, were here mingled in 
one indiscriminate, republican mass. It was a gorgeous 
ball-room; lights flashed from brilliant chandeliers; silks 
rustled, plumes waved, and jewelled embroideries shone 
upon Genoa velvets. Courtly congratulations fell from 
every lip; not only to the President, whose star was in 
the ascendant, but to the one who was quietly retiring to 
private life, after having honorably fulfilled his mission as 
the executive of a great nation for eight years; and that, 
too, during one of the stormiest periods of this great 
republic. Wit sparkled, and the laughter of merry voices 
rang through the saloons, while dancing feet kept time 
to the tones of magic music ; and yet I learned there 
one serious lesson, that sank deep into my heart — a glit- 
tering exterior is not always an exponent of nobility 
and refinement. 

A lady was pointed out to me, dressed in crimson 
velvet embroidered in seed pearls half a yard in depth; 
a diamond necklace glittered on her painted throat; 
gems of priceless value adorned her fat fingers, and costly 
jewels encircled her wrists. "See," said one; "that 
woman wears the wealth of a kingdom about her un- 
comely form; she is the second wife of a Swedish noble- 
man, who married the rich widow of a soap-boiler, to 
mend his broken fortunes." His aristocratic daughters, 
at the other end of the room, dressed in pure white, 
wearing no costly ornaments, were models of grace and 
elegance. These Swedish maidens, their queenly heads 
adorned with a profusion of blonde curls, with eyes of 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 113 

the deepest blue sparkling with vivacity and intelligence, 
were beautiful; and all eyes followed them as they 
floated like snow-wreaths through the mazy dance. 

The question occurred, Can wealth ensure respect or 
fix the mark of aristocracy? This ci-devant plebeian, 
though covered with jewels and bloated with pride, 
showed that her position in high life was accidental. 
True, she had unlocked the ' entrance to a baronial resi- 
dence, and entered its lordly halls, but only to become 
more ridiculous, by assuming a position which she could 
not sustain. The true nobility of intelligence and moral 
worth needs not the aid of foreign ornament, it will 
find its level — Mount Olympus can not keep it down. 
From that hour I determined that I would seek the 
wealth of mind, and strive for that real worth which 
perisheth not. 

" Howe'er it be, it seems to me 
'Tis only noble to be good." 

Miss Taylor was sincerely pious, firm and uncompro- 
mising in her religious duties, and with her we all 
attended the ministry of the Rev. Mr. Hawley, an evan- 
gelical preacher of the deepest piety, and for more than 
forty years the pastor of a congregation that worshiped 
in the beautiful little Episcopal Church of St. John, near 
the President's house. We enjoyed the peculiar privi- 
lege of being well instructed in the sacred truths of the 
Bible, and regularly catechized at the close of each week 
in the doctrines of the Church. 

That a person may be a member of the Church with- 
out possessing even the elementary knowledge of re- 
ligion, or being at all imbued with its holy principles, 
was eminently proved by the contrast between these two 
sisters. Miss Julia was a regular communicant, and 



ii4 Julia A. Tevis. 

admitted to all the privileges of Church membership that 
her sister enjoyed, but hers was the profession without the 
possession. Miss Charlotte's piety like 

"A beautiful rainbow, 
All woven of light, 
Had not in its tissue 
One shadow of night ;" 

while her sister, though possesing a highly intellectual 
and cultivated taste, clever, in the English acceptation of 
the term, but not wise enough to forbear the exhibition 
of her powers, was so entirely self-centered and decided, 
so divested of all feeling for others, as to counteract her 
loveliness of face and culture of mind. Had I been 
a disciple of Pythagoras, I should have certainly believed 
that she must have been a vicious cat transformed into 
a woman. Her iron rule would have been intolerable, 
had it not been for the outgushing tenderness of her sis- 
ter, ever ready to grant even more than was asked. 

Many things occur in a school-girl's life which serve 
to relieve the monotony of its every-day routine. Sat- 
urday, the usual day for mischief, was always rife with 
amusement. I was awakened one lovely morning, long 
after sunrise, by the chattering of busy tongues. 

"She must have her ears bored, and I can do it," 
said one, "just as well as the silversmith." 

"Oh, no!" replied a pale, quiet little girl, who was 
lying in a low bed, around which several were gathered; 
"'twill hurt too bad." 

"Pooh, nonsense, child! suppose it does hurt; you 
must have your ears pierced; every body wears earrings." 
"Well, but mamma did not tell me I must, and I 
have got none." 

"No matter," chimed in a laughing voice; "your 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 115 

mamma will be glad when it is done ; it will save her the 
trouble of doing it." 

"Well, but Mary, let me ask Miss Taylor first." 

"No you shan't, you little goose, for Miss Julia will 
be sure to refuse; so now be quiet, and I will lend you 
my nice little ear-bobs until you get a pair of your own." 

The timid, half reluctant child at last consented, and 
expressed much delight when the operation was over and 
the rings put in, just in time for the breakfast-bell. I 
witnessed the operation, but declined assisting for fear of 
giving pain, though I have often regretted that I had not 
the moral courage to prevent it, as the consequences 
were so dreadful. The tender flesh being pierced with a 
brass pin, produced erysipelas, which terminated in St. 
Vitus's dance, and the poor girl was a sufferer the 
remainder of her life, at intervals. 

How many disasters of the same kind have arisen 
from causes as slight! I took an item in my memory, 
and many years afterwards brought it into practical con- 
sideration, by punishing one of my own pupils, who 
would have performed the same operation upon a willing 
companion. There is not a more sensible truth than the 
one expressed in the childish verse — 

"Satan finds some mischief still 
For idle hands to do." 

Children are always happier when usefully employed; 
and change of employment is sufficient recreation, and 
gives all the relaxation necessary during school hours. 
Their amusements, even, should tend to improvement 
mentally or physically. Not only in the study-room, but 
on the play-ground, may the Scripture truth be well 
applied, "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it 
with thy might. " That sleepy, dawdling attitude, which 



n6 Julia A. Tevis. 

girls are sometimes allowed to assume, is the result of 
dreamy indolence or stupidity. It affords neither health- 
ful recreation nor profitable relaxation, but opens the 
door for the entrance of evil thoughts, and is really 
calculated to destroy correct principles. 

The pure, unalloyed joys of early life should be min- 
gled with those light and active pleasures, so peculiarly 
the evidence of health and good moral training. The 
dewy freshness of my own girlhood, ofttimes stealing 
upon my recollection, tempts me to wish I were young 
again — existence then was such a continual festival; but 
the thought is as evanescent as the shadow on the wall, 
and I am grateful that, as the world relaxes its grasp and 
enables my soul to plume her wings for a higher sphere, 
I strive 

"Nightly to pitch my moving tent 
A day's march nearer home." 

Yet, I deem it a blessing to have been able to garner 
up the costly and countless treasures of those happy 
hours, and, as the day of life darkens upon me, these 
shine like stars amidst the gloom, to cheer and console 
with the sweet assurance that our Father in Heaven, who 
has dotted this desert world with so many beautiful oases, 
will never leave nor forsake those who love and trust 
him. God's love flows like a clear stream through a 
troublous world, washing away its impurities, remov- 
ing the corruptions of the human heart, and softening 
life's perplexities. 

Miss Taylor's school was broken up by the marriage 
of Miss Julia to an officer of the United States Army, 
who settled with his bride at Detroit. Miss Charlotte 
formed a part of their family for a while, and thence, a 
few years after, returned to her English home. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 117 



Chapter VII. 

I remained at home a few months under my mother's 
care, that I might become acquainted with some of 
those household duties, so practical and necessary in 
woman's life, and then entered the school of Mrs. Stone, 
an educated and highly accomplished English woman, of 
well-deserved reputation as a teacher. She had enjoyed 
peculiar advantages in her island home, and afterwards 
spent two years in Paris, where she acquired a thorough 
knowledge of the French language, which she spoke 
fluently. 

Mrs. Stone was an amiable, benevolent woman, of 
easy, affable, and graceful manners. Her pupils were 
endeared to her by a thousand little delicate attentions 
and unexpected favors. Her residence on Pennsylvania 
Avenue occupied a position so very conspicuous upon 
this great thoroughfare as to oblige me to pass through 
the most thronged and busiest part of the city; thus my 
parents thought proper to board me in the institution. 
Three younger sisters were placed there also, but under 
my special charge ; thus obviating the objection of send- 
ing them at so early an age from under the paternal 
roof. I found time, not only to attend to my own duties 
as a student, but to give them every requisite attention, 
and, besides, to aid them in preparing their own lessons. 
My daily recitations, four or five in number, were always 
well prepared, for I could not bear inferiority in my 
class, and, . intensely anxious to excel in every thing 



n8 Julia A. Tevis. 

I undertook, I placed my standard above mediocrity. 
Dancing lessons, during the Winter, were regularly given 
by a master, who came once a week to the school. 
French, Music, and Drawing were also considered indis- 
pensable. We took three lessons a week in Music — an 
hour each; the same amount of time was devoted to 
Drawing. We had a French governess, who chatted 
French incessantly, and heard us conjugate French verbs ; 
while our Drawing-teacher, who was also a good French 
scholar, corrected our translations. Mademoiselle did not 
understand English well enough. 

Thus we were kept fully occupied by our school 
duties, in addition to which I not only made and kept in 
order my own clothes, but those of my sisters while they 
were with me. I remember to have had but one dress 
made by a mantua-maker until after I was married ; and 
after leaving school generally made my mother's. I make 
these statements for the benefit of the rising generation, 
and to show girls that "where there 's a will there 's a 
way," and "though Alps on Alps arise" before the ease- 
loving and indolent, yet these impossibilities vanish before 
persevering industry. 

Mrs. Stone possessed much tact in communicating 
what she knew, and was noted for her flashes of wit and 
dazzling repartee. She spoke with great volubility, and 
all her conversation with her pupils tended to their im- 
provement. Universally kind, she was much beloved by 
all who knew her. She had undoubtedly been hand- 
some, and retained still much of the bloom of youth. 

During the sitting of Congress the older girls were 
taken by Mrs. Stone once a week to hear the celebrated 
speakers, or listen to debates on interesting subjects. 
There were "giants in those days," and among the most 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 119 

conspicuous of the whole bright galaxy of intelligences 
that illuminated our legislative halls appeared Henry 
Clay, Speaker of the House of Representatives; John C. 
Calhoun, John Randolph, Sheffey, and others, who had 
been leaders of the war party, aspiring now to a place in 
the councils of the nation. Mr. Calhoun's features im- 
pressed me as being remarkably fine, and, though some- 
what stern in repose, were yet capable of being molded 
to any meaning it was his will to express. He always 
commanded the attention of the House as a character of 
that lofty cast which seems to rise above the ordinary 
wants and weaknesses of humanity. 

John Randolph was another of the great speakers who 
made a deep impression upon my mind. One of the 
queerest and most wiry-looking men I ever saw, he was 
unmistakably a great man. His genius had angels' wings, 
but fed on the bitterest extracts from Mount Hymettus. 
Always on the side of the minority, difficulty seemed to 
possess a charm for him, because affording an opportunity 
for displaying the energies of his soul. His voice was 
weak and squeaking — thin, and sometimes harsh ; yet his 
eloquence was irresistible. He wielded his weapons of 
wit and ridicule with conclusive power. 

An authentic anecdote is related of his having effectu- 
ally laid upon the table a bill, introduced after the adoption 
of the Federal Constitution, to have the seats of each dele- 
gation wrought with some device descriptive of the staples 
of their several States. Mr. Randolph arose, after listening 
to a long debate on the subject, and suggested the more 
elegant and impressive arrangement of a marble statue 
for each State. "North Carolina, for instance," he said, 
pointing his long bony finger, and shaking it in the most 
significant manner; "let her fill a conspicuous niche, 



i2o Julia A. Tevis. 

leaning against a persimmon-tree, with an opossum at her 
feet, and a sweet potato in her hand." It brought down 
the house — and the plan, too. 

In the Congress of the United States, at that time, 
no man occupied a more enviable position than did our 
own Henry Clay. 

Mr. Clay could, by the magic of his amazing will 
and his irresistible self-assertion, lift a great audience to 
dizzy heights of enthusiasm, and stir unwonted throbbings 
in the heart. 

When in his magnificent moments men saw him agi- 
tate the Senate into fury, and then, as born to command, 
play with the whirlwind and direct the storm, they felt 
in their inmost souls that he had Nature's patent for his 
oratorical tyranny. 

Possessing that liquid melody of tone so fascinating 
by its variety of inflection and its ever-changing natural- 
ness, Henry Clay could hold his audience enchained for 
hours without wearying them, and in a great speech 
move on through the whole oratorical voyage as grace- 
fully as a noble ship, w r hose snowy sails flutter and quiver 
in storm and breeze by turns, but always majestic and 
swan-like in its movements. Mr. Clay's gestures natu- 
rally aided his eloquence. His pantomime was the per- 
fect painting of his thoughts, and each discriminating 
gesture told its own story. 

A man who was somewhat deaf, and could not get 
near enough to Mr. Clay in one of his finest efforts, 
remarked, "I did not hear a word he said; but, bless 
me! did n't he make his motions?" 

Mr. Clay was never declamatory, even in his most 
fervid moments. When wrought up to the highest pitch 
of enthusiasm, his modulations and intonations, diversi- 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 121 

fied and distinct, were all subservient to that principle of 
melody so permanently stamped upon every thing he 
uttered, — even like the multitudinous laughter of the 
waves, mingling with the crashing breakers and sobbing 
billows, but all subordinate to and finally lost in the great 
ocean diapason, the majestic music of the sea. 

Somewhat in the same way, and with the same un- 
broken velocity, spoke Wm. Pinckney, of Maryland, who 
among the contemporaries of Clay stood next in fame 
for eloquence. 

Mr. Pinckney was a brilliant legal speaker, and held 
the office of Attorney-general of the United States under 
Mr. Madison when war was declared. He, as well as 
Mr. Clay, Avas an ardent advocate for the Avar. Mr. 
Pinckney was pre-eminent as a lawyer; his legal attain- 
ments Avere extensive and profound, and being enthusi- 
astically devoted to his profession, he Avas ambitious of 
its triumphs. His oratory, though at times too declama- 
tory and rhetorical, Avas rich, copious, and fluent in a 
high degree, adorned with the finest imagery, draAvn from 
classic lore and a vivid fancy; the effect of which Avas 
increased by the manliness of his figure, a sonorous and 
flexible A r oice, and the animation and gracefulness of his 
delivery. By his application to the subject of elocution 
and the English language he had added to his natural 
facility and fluency a copiousness of elegant diction, 
which graced e\ r en his conversation, and imparted neAV 
strength and beauty to his forensic style. 

In the first moments of his speech, it is said, he did 
not win, but rather repulsed; gathering headway, how- 
ever, he gained more and more, till he took the helm of 
your mind, and led you hither and thither as the frenzy 
and the mood swept over him. Mr. Pinckney deservedly 



122 Julia A. Tevis. 

occupied a high position among the American orators 
of that memorable period, and yet he was not too proud 
to be vain. 

I saw him in 1818, soon after his last return from 
Europe; and as his name had always been associated in 
my mind with something above the ordinary standard of 
men, I was not a little surprised to see him so magnifi- 
cently dressed as seemingly to ignore that republican 
simplicity of which our great men boast so much. A 
splendid blue cloth cloak of ample dimensions, lined with 
rich crimson velvet, artistically draped his fine form and 
gave dignity to his appearance, conveying the impression 
that he had been accustomed to kingly courts rather than 
to democratic councils; yet there was nothing out of keep- 
ing with his position. There was a good taste, which re- 
minded one of the beautiful tropes and metaphors abound- 
ing in his oratory — embellishing, not detracting. 

When we observe the wonderfully complicated nature 
of man, the noble dominion of mind subject to his con- 
trol, the vast achievements of his art and genius, and the 
intelligence which places him but little lower than the 
angels, what a mingled picture of light and shade does 
he present! 

"How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, 
How complicate, how wonderful is man! 
How passing wonder He who made him such !" 

Often, when listening to the eloquence of these great 
legislators, I have thought, "How these patriots love 
their country!" Some did, I doubt not; but I have long 
since learned to distrust that ambitions political creed, 
openly avowed by many, of which expediency is the Al- 
pha and Omega. Human interest will always mingle 
with human motives. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 123 

I saw Mr. Calhoun once in after-life. His ample brow 
was pale with anxious thought, deep lines of care were 
chiseled on his face ; but there was still the lightning 
glance in his undimmed eye which told of the bold, 
intrepid spirit that had given him a lofty rank among 
the great men of his age. 

While at Mrs. Stone's I was associated with many 
intelligent, interesting girls; but the one I best remem- 
ber, and of whom I still have a sweet and touching recol- 
lection, was Laura Wirt, a daughter of the eminent 
Attorney -general. I never met with a girl of so uni- 
versal talents — excelling in every accomplishment, and 
that without effort or pretense. 

Miss Wirt was about seventeen years old, of very 
lovely person, delicate and fragile ; her complexion pale, 
without any tincture of sallowness; abundant glossy hair, 
regular features, and eyes of rather a sad expression, but 
possessing an indescribable luster. Her manner was nei- 
ther forward nor bashful; but affectionate, without famil- 
iarity, and quiet, without being dull. She possessed 
many qualities which rendered her an agreeable compan- 
ion and an interesting classmate. I speak particularly 
of her, because I regarded her then, as I do now, a model 
pupil, as well as a model daughter. She neglected none 
of the privileges afforded her, but improved every oppor- 
tunity to the greatest advantage, and though an extern 
she spent every leisure moment in the study -room, 
drawing, translating French or Latin, consulting maps or 
reading history, or in § some way preparing herself for 
future usefulness. 

Mr. Wirt had a large family of daughters, all younger 
than Laura, and the mother being in feeble health, the care 
of the children devolved principally on the eldest. I saw 



124 Julia A. Tevis. 

Mrs. Wirt but once in her own home. She was reclining 
upon a sofa, giving the impression of extreme languor 
from ill health ; her face as white, her features as passion- 
iss, as if carved in Parian marble. Yet she was said to 
be a woman of great strength of character, though sweet, 
patient, and amiable — enduring like a Christian the severe 
liscipline of early disappointments, domestic bereave- 
ments, and constant ill health; and coming out like re- 
fined gold from her fiery trials. 

Laura had an object of more than common interest in 
striving to secure knowledge. She intended that her 
acquirements and accomplishments should be put to a 
practical use. Her father's salary, as Attorney- general 
of the United States, was scarcely sufficient to support 
his family and give that prestige necessary to their posi- 
tion in society, and this excellent daughter accepted an 
appointment as clerk for her father, with a salary of a 
thousand dollars. The duties of this office she faithfully 
and satisfactorily performed, besides being much with her 
mother and sisters, and entering occasionally into the 
beau monde, where she commanded the. homage and admi- 
ration due to real worth and superior elegance. A model 
pupil at school, a model daughter at home, a model 
woman in society, her hand was sought in marriage by 
some of the best and wisest men of the day; and she 
finally made a happy choice, but did not live many 
years after. 

To die young is often the destiny of very superior, I 
might almost say of precocious, talents. We should 
regard long life as a blessing when God bestows it; yet 
we should not consider it less a privilege to die early if 
our Heavenly Father so wills it. And what matters it if 
no monumental stone be erected to such a memory! the 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 125 

fame imparted by the lofty marble is lost in the general 
wreck of matter, and those who would claim a tear and a 
memory must write their names on living hearts. 

Mrs. Stone had some wayward pupils, who eschewed 
books and loved idleness. I have since had my own 
experience with such, and am prepared to exclaim, with 
sympathetic emotion, Woe betide the teacher who has to 
break in these vivacious specimens of humanity! They 
seem to set their minds at work to baffle every effort to 
reduce them to order. This arises, not from malice, but 
from want of early parental discipline. Often affectionate 
and placable, though impatient and passionate, yet I can 
truly say there is greater satisfaction in subduing one such 
sinner, and more joy felt, than over the ninety and nine 
who need no such correction. Kind, indulgent, and for- 
giving, Mrs. Stone was no disciplinarian ; hence scenes 
of confusion frequently occurred among the boarding 
pupils never witnessed under the firm but gentle sway of 
Miss Taylor, whose dignified presence was alone sufficient 
to still the troubled waters. Miss Taylor often mingled 
with us out of school hours; Mrs. Stone seldom saw us 
except at recitations and meals, save by special request, 
though we were never left without the supervision of 
Mademoiselle or some under-governess, who was as little 
regarded as one of the girls would have been. 

The habit before mentioned as fatal to good order, 
that of allowing girls to spend all their leisure time in 
their bedrooms, obtained here to a considerable extent. 
Six or eight would sometimes collect in one room for 
gossip, indulging in light, vain, and foolish, if not sinful, 
conversation. One may well imagine what scenes of riot 
and confusion were likely to occur among a number of 
idle young girls, divested of all restraint from their supe- 

9 



i26 Julia A. Tevis. 

riors. As long as the laughing and chattering in the 
several apartments during recreation hours was kept within 
such bounds as not to disturb Mrs. Stone, no notice was 
taken of the noise ; and if ever the uproar attracted atten- 
tion, then one or two of the younger children were 
brought forward as the delinquents by their older school- 
fellows, to suffer the reproof or punishment due, in gen- 
eral, to themselves. Feeling the responsibility devolving 
upon me in reference to my sisters, I spent my intervals 
of relaxation in the large and, for the time being, almost 
deserted school-room with them. We had no recreation 
grounds; not a blade of grass in the yard, which was 
crowded with out -buildings — thus compelling us to seek 
amusement within doors. 

I am reminded in this place of a queer girl, one of my 
room - mates, whose peculiarities, though sometimes a 
source of much annoyance, often gave infinite diversion 
by her drollery. Born to be a trial of patience to all 
concerned with or about her — giddy, restless, mischievous, 
and unrestrained in spirits — continually getting into 
scrapes — often reproved, but never any better; her round, 
good-natured, merry face, and large, bright, laughing 
eyes, and eternally apologetic "Well, I won't do so 
again," usually made her peace with all. Once, striving 
to draw me from my quiet work in the school-room, she 
came screaming, at the top of her voice: "Oh, do come, 
Julia! they've got your beautiful quilt spread out on the 
floor, playing jacks; and some of them are sitting right 
in the middle of your bed, cutting papers all over it — 
and, such a mess!" 

I followed her quietly up-stairs, and what a scene pre- 
sented itself to my astonished vision ! One girl was 
mounted on a chair before the looking-glass, half a dozen 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 127 

were seated on a handsome patchwork quilt, one of my 
mother's best — each girl having to furnish her own bed, 
bedding, towels, etc. — quantities of marbles were bouncing 
from the corners and center, while the girls were literally- 
grabbing out the cotton wadding from my nice quilt, in 
which they had picked great holes. The little ones were 
rolling over the uncarpeted floor, and one was seated in 
the middle of a low bed with her shoes on, while another 
was unpacking her trunk; and Mary Wilson, the mes- 
senger, had left hers entirely emptied of its odds and 
ends. My presence quelled the storm in one sense, but 
raised a tempest in another. I was disposed to be fas- 
tidiously neat. I boxed the ears of one, shook two or 
three others, and contrived in a few minutes to push all 
the transgressors out at the door, at the same time lock- 
ing it and putting the key in my pocket. 

Such scenes were not uncommon. One bright moon- 
light night, being awakened out of a sound sleep by some- 
thing falling heavily on the floor, I perceived a figure 
dressed in white bending intently over something in the 
middle of the room. Half unconsciously, with beating 
heart, I watched it gradually rise, until it seemed in the 
mellow moonlight to reach the very ceiling, and then sink 
slowly in one corner of the room. I expected it to van- 
ish — it did not. Being now fully restored to conscious- 
ness, I arose softly, walked toward the object, and found 
it to be Mary Wilson, with a sheet wrapped around her, 
engaged in pairing her stockings and tying them together. 
"Asleep," thought I. "How terrible to have a sleep- 
walker in my room!" Just then she suddenly turned, 
and, seeing me, broke into a merry laugh, exclaiming: 

"Well, you see, Julia, I've lost so many stockings 
that yesterday I had to wear one white and one gray 



128 Julia A. Tevis. 

one; and 't is so much trouble to keep the best foot 
foremost all the time that I thought, to-night, when 
the moon's lamp burned so beautifully, that I would 
take the opportunity to hunt up the odd ones and 
pair them." 

"You silly girl! what will Mrs. Stone say to this 
night-prowling of yours? running the risk too, as you do, 
of scaring some of the children half to death?" 

"She'll never know it, unless you tell her," she 
replied; "and you, who are so full of energy, ought to 
commend me for mine. See; there lie three pairs and a 
dozen odd ones, with half a foot each — and so much day- 
light saved." 

The clock struck two; she had been up since eleven. 

"If you do not get in bed instantly, I '11 report you 
to-morrow," said I. 

"I do n't believe you will," was the reply; "besides, 
I '11 be too busy all the morning to be punished; and in 
the evening we have to dance, and you will want me for 
a partner, with my clean stockings and red shoes." 

Mary was incorrigible in many things, and delighted 
in nothing so much as in provoking and annoying her 
teachers. French and Spanish she could not, or would 
not, learn to pronounce; and Avhile she rendered Mad- 
emoiselle frantic, was as cool as an iceberg herself. 
Monsieur Henri, who occasionally heard us read French, 
sometimes arose and finished his lesson by throwing the 
book at her head, because she persisted in pronouncing 
" pent aire" "patater;" and a "joli garcon" was a "jolly 
garkon." 

Proper attention was given in this establishment to 
the externals of religion. Every body went to church 
twice on the Sabbath; it would have been ungenteel not 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 129 

to do so. I am not aware that any of our teachers ever 
manifested decided impressions of piety; and we were 
only saved from utter indifference on that subject by 
these formalities, through which we enjoyed the indirect 
influences of religion. I do not think there was an indi- 
vidual among the teachers or pupils who would not have 
thought it being "righteous overmuch" to do more than 
attend church regularly twice on the Sabbath. 



130 Julia A. Tevis. 



Chapter VIII. 

Political contests of great bitterness marked the 
period from 18 15 to 1820. Hot disputes between 
Federalists and Democrats ended in a number of duels. 
One I distinctly recollect, as sending a thrill of horror 
throughout the land, — so sad in its results, and so strong 
a proof of the hatred engendered by political strife, sun- 
dering the ties of affection, and trailing in blood the 
banner of kindred love. 

Colonel Armstead F. Mason and Colonel John M'Carty 
were first cousins — each the prominent man of his party. 
Mason, however, was held in high estimation, and re- 
spected by both parties; kind and forgiving, he tried to 
avoid a difficulty with M'Carty, who pursued him with a 
malignity almost without a parallel. Mason had thwarted 
his purposes — at least M'Carty fancied so; he had crossed 
his path at the bar of the courts, and circumvented his 
political designs. 

The characters of the two men were as antagonistic 
as their politics. Mason, though a great statesman, was 
not an ambitious one; yet he hesitated not to stand in 
the breach, to stem the torrent of ungodly politicians, 
whose artful designs were ready to engulf our new-formed 
government. Mason was brave, high-minded, and full of 
noble impulses; M'Carty, stern, cold, and revengeful. 
Mason did every thing it was thought an honorable man 
could do to avoid a collision ; but, alas ! not all that a 
Christian should have done, or he had not fallen a victim 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 131 

to that false code of honor which is a disgrace to the 
civilized world, nor violated the law of God rather than 
break through the cold conventionality of society. He 
should not have forgotten his paramount obligations to 
his lovely young wife, whose very existence seemed 
bound up in his, and left his only child an orphan. 

M' Carry gave provocation after provocation for a 
quarrel. Mason was ready to explain, though he was 
no coward; but his opponent was determined on a meet- 
ing, and refused all explanation. Thus the long evaded 
crisis came. The vindictive M'Carty compelled him, at 
last, to turn at bay — his hatred surrounded him like a 
wall of fire. Among the modes of fighting proposed 
by M'Carty was that each should sit upon a keg of 
powder, near enough to apply the torch for the des- 
truction of the other. Finally they fought with rifles 
at Bladensburg — the Congressional duel ground — only a 
few paces apart. Mason fell mortally wounded; M'Carty 
fled before the last struggle was over, while the death 
damp lay upon the noble brow of his murdered victim, 
whose intellectual superiority he envied, and had blighted 
in its bloom, leaving an example of one of the most 
awful duels ever traced by ambition upon its bloody 
pages. The survivor went forth with the mark of Cain 
upon his brow, and with the awful denunciation ringing 
in his ears, "Thy brother's blood crieth to me from 
the ground." 

Duelling — genius, virtue, freedom, and truth demand 
its banishment from the world. That fearful tragedy has 
never been forgotten — men cease not to remember it. 
The torch of ambition, with its fitful glare, was extin- 
guished in the blood of a relative. Thus was the light 
of a happy home forever darkened. But yesterday the 



132 Julia A. Tevis. 

freshness of young life, unwithered by the touch of time, 
rested upon husband and wife. The golden sun of the 
morning illuminated their household, and the incense of 
loving hearts floated through all its apartments; before 
night the affectionate father, the fond husband, the de- 
voted patriot, closed his brilliant career in a bloody death, 
having reached only his thirty-second year. 

Well do I remember the dusky twilight hour of that 
day; the raindrops fell upon the pavement, chilling the 
heart with their cold patter, as if in sympathy with the 
horrid deed of the day. My face was pressed closely 
against the window-pane watching the hasty footsteps of 
my father, who said, in a melancholy tone, as he entered 
the room, "It is all over," and called our attention to 
the rattling wheels of the carriage which bore away the 
reckless demagogue from the disastrous scene. 

I listened eagerly to the rehearsal of all the circum- 
stances, and shuddered as I wept for Mason's desolate 
family. Ah ! thought I, the murderer may escape man's 
justice, but the eye of God he can not escape. Pale 
faces will look upon him from behind the dark curtain of 
the night with sad reproaches for the ruin of a wrecked 
household. He had wasted God's best gifts and sep- 
arated himself from all that ennobles life, and had nothing 
to look forward to but a fearful judgment to come, the 
black shadow of remorse following him wherever he went. 
If the lot of a common murderer is terrible, what must 
be that of a wretch loaded with the accumulated guilt of 
a murdered family? 

It was this same Colonel Mason who said of ' ' Father 
Littlejohn," a man of deep, unaffected piety, combined 
with a cultivated intellect and industrial talent, "I have 
known the Rev. Mr. Littlejohn to finish a saddle, preside 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 133 

on the bench as a magistrate, preach a funeral sermon, 
baptize a child, and perform the marriage ceremony, all 
on the same day." After I commenced teaching in 
Shelbyville I became acquainted with this eminent apostle 
of Jesus Christ, when his snowy locks and bent form 
indicated great age; and from him learned the finale 
of the Mason and M'Carty duel. 

Mrs. Mason, though heartbroken, tried to live on 
for the sake of her child. Supported by the consolations 
of religion, the heart may still throb on — on — on, when 
it has ceased to live for this world. She passed through 
joyless days and sorrowful nights, with her fair head 
bowed in meekness to the will of God, but often sigh- 
ing, "Father, take home thy child;" and sweetly smiled 
when, at last, the summons came. The son lived to emu- 
late his father's noble deeds, a comfort to his mother 
while she lived; but was killed in the early bloom of 
manhood, while fighting at the head of his regiment in 
the Mexican war. 

Father Littlejohn, to whom I have just alluded, was a 
man of many sorrows, but, like St. Paul, he suffered 
willingly for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ 
Jesus our Lord; and like the same great apostle, all his 
trophies, all his spoils were hung upon the cross of 
Christ. The blessings of many years does not often 
crown a human brow without leaving thereon the impress 
of suffering. The good old man brought me his grand- 
daughter to educate — a sweet, dove-eyed little girl, the 
sole blossom left upon the household tree. A kind 
tone of voice and a gentleness of manner were the 
characteristics of Catharine Littlejohn. She was like 
the delicious mignonette, lifting up its sweet blossoms 
laden with fragrance to be poured like incense upon the 



134 Julia A. Tevis. 

heart of the dear old grandfather. Her looks, like the 
cheerful smile of Spring, sent a glow of warmth upon 
the Winter of his age. She was beautiful in her girlish 
simplicity, quiet and dreamy when alone, gay and joyous 
with her young companions, but sly and silent among 
strangers, though there were no awkwardnesses that were 
not as good as graces. She married young, died early, 
and went home to join the family throng. 

I can not close without a word more about Father 
Littlejohn. His name must ever live in the annals of 
early Methodism. He was accounted faithful among the 
pioneers. "The Churches knew and loved and gave 
him praise;" 

"For with untiring, apostolic zeal, 
He watered and refreshed them; his sacred 
Office was his joy — it seemed the well-spring 
Of his life — and all its sources gushing 
Forth in holy fervor, bore him onward, 
Fitting him for heaven." 

The good man's labors cease, but memory retouches 
the lines that marked its varied path — it has a thousand 
tongues to hold companionship with such a guide. 

Washington City was at that time more under the 
influence of moral and religious principle than it has 
ever been since. Every respectable family had a pew in 
some church, and there was almost as much of that 
Puritan feeling found in high places as was generally dis- 
seminated throughout New England. There was preach- 
ing at the Capitol every Sabbath, with a large and decent 
congregation in attendance. Few loiterers were seen 
on the public streets or at the tavern-doors; convention- 
ality required a Sabbath stillness around every mansion. 
This was, doubtless, owing to the unwearied faithfulness 
of a few evangelical ministers, whose holy walk and godly 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 135 

conversation almost worked miracles among the rich and 
the great; while they brought comfort and blessings to 
the lowly and humble. 

Among these good men stood out, in bold relief, 
the pastor of St. Paul's Church, who for so many years 
"prophesied in Israel;" and the reformation affected by 
his labors among the gay, fashionable, thoughtless, and 
extravagant members of his congregation attested him 
to be, indeed, the messenger of God, by whom he 
was highly honored. There were others, as I have said, 
equally honored, but I knew him best, being a regular 
attendant upon his ministry. The memory of the just is 
blessed; and individuals, as well as nations, are exalted 
only in proportion to their righteousness. The names 
and the virtues of the holy men who have, from time to 
time, been appointed to enlighten and reclaim the world 
have shed a luster and diffused an influence upon man- 
kind which shall expand and brighten to the end of 
time. Not so those who thrust themselves, uncalled, into 
the temple, and, Judas like, betray the Master whom 
they pretend to serve. 

I shall never forget the sensation of disgust produced 
throughout the whole community of Washington by the 
levity of a celebrated preacher who, having for ten years 
officiated in one of the most prominent churches in 
B , without spot or blemish upon his clerical char- 
acter, was now en route, by a special call, to fill the presi- 
dential chair of a newly-founded university in the West. 
It was at the commencement of the gay season of 18 18. 
The city was thronged with visitors and strangers. The 

Rev. Mr. H thought it not amiss to appear at a 

Saturday evening soiree at the French Minister's, and 
dance until the small hours of the Sabbath morning,' 



136 Julia A. Tevis. 

captivating the beau monde with his easy, seductive ele- 
gance of manners, and then fulfill his appointment to 
preach in the Representative Hall at eleven o'clock. His 
congregation was large, but distinguished by the presence 
of many of the gay revellers of the evening before. 

Is there not something fearfully wrong in what we call 
our highly civilized state of society, when it can tolerate 
such departure from principle? True, this man was 
brilliant, witty, elegant, accomplished, and gifted; but 
fearfully deficient in all the higher Christian virtues and 
nobler motives. He possessed that fire and energy, 
combined with novelty and elegance of ideas, and that 
loftiness of expression, which displayed an intellect at 
once refined and gigantic. The institution in the West, 
over which he presided for a few years, suffered from his 
bad example ; and so pernicious was his influence, that, 
like the deadly shade of the Upas, it withered, if it did 
not destroy, every virtue that came within its circle. 
Finally, after a few meteoric flashes, the brilliant star of 
his unfulfilled genius sank into a rayless night. 

The name of Madame la Comtesse de Neuville, wife 
of the resident French Minister, is embalmed with some 
of the most pleasant recollections of my later school 
days. She was the intimate friend of Mrs. Stone, with 
whom she had been associated in Paris at school. When 
Madame de Neuville came to Washington she seemed 
eager to renew their friendship upon the old terms of 
intimacy, notwithstanding the different spheres in which 
they moved. Monsieur and Madame de Neuville, al- 
though exponents of the highest European nobility, pos- 
sessed much of that republican simplicity of which we 
Americans boast so much and show so little. In our 
aspirations, as a people, after wealth and position, we 



Sixty Years in a School-room: 137 

seem to ignore the very spirit of our institutions and the 
equality proclaimed in our Declaration of Independence, 
where no patent of nobility is granted, and none recog- 
nized, except that to which is appended the great seal of 
moral and intellectual superiority. 

At the door of one of the plainest brick buildings on 
Pennsylvania Avenue, Madame de Neuville's splendid 
carriage was frequently seen standing, being sent to con- 
vey Mrs. Stone to a dining or an evening party. Every- 
body delighted to accept her invitations, and attend her 
gay balls and magnificent dinner parties ; and we school- 
girls felt as much flattered by the attention paid our be- 
loved teacher as if it had been ourselves. The fact was, 
we all loved Madame de Neuville for her plain, unosten- 
tatious manners, and what we deemed her condescension 
in noticing us. She had no children in her own house, 
no merry voices and pattering feet to greet her at home ; 
hence she took particular pleasure in the pupils of her 
friend, and delighted in bringing down her own thoughts 
and feelings to their comprehension. Her love for the 
young and her interest in their society kept her happy. 

We were the frequent recipients of her favors — flow- 
ers, delicious fruits, assorted French candies, etc., etc. — 
all very welcome and charming to schoolgirls. The 
greatest delight of the older girls was to see Mrs. Stone 
dressed for one of Madame's gay parties, and admire her 
petite figure, covered with rich laces and jewels; then 
await her return and listen to her descriptions of all she 
had seen in the gay world. Madame de Neuville pos- 
sessed that true nobility of spirit which evinces itself in 
a cheerful and general politeness; that amenity and want 
of pretension so fascinating in high life. Her ordinary 
language was the purest and most graceful French ; but 



i3 8 Julia A. Tevis. 

she spoke English with ease and with considerable accu- 
racy for a foreigner. 

Monsieur de Neuville we seldom saw, except in their 
daily walks, in which he invariably carried an umbrella 
and she a shawl, no matter what the condition of the 
weather. Their splendid equipage, with footmen and 
outriders, was often seen rolling through the streets, 
containing no one but a secretary, Charge d'Affaires, or, 
perhaps, my lady's maid on a shopping excursion ; while 
the minister and his wife were taking long walks over the 
commons or on the banks of the river. They had a tall, 
handsome footman, who looked so elegant -in his gold- 
laced livery, that mysterious stories were whispered about 
among the ladies of his being a nobleman in disguise, 
and the poor fellow was persecuted with billets-doux 
and constant espionage, to escape which he finally aban- 
doned his position and took refuge in his own country. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 139 



Chapter IX. 

I have said, that I was fond of reading, but what I 
read previous to the age of seventeen had not been 
well digested; it was rather a species of cramming, which 
a maturer judgment taught me to reject, and I now began 
to discriminate between healthy literature and the hot- 
bed productions with which the press teemed then as 
now: yet I did not eschew all fiction, and often, when 
reading an interesting novel, to which daylight could not 
be devoted, the moon lent her friendly aid. 

My imprudence in thus straining my eyes, though it 
did not render me very nearsighted, prevented my being 
able to see things distinctly at a great distance common 
to good eyes. 'Tis a dangerous experiment to read by 
moonlight. My naturally strong gray eyes suffered less 
injury than weaker ones might have sustained. 

I had traveled much into the dangerous realms of 
fancy, and frequently went beyond my depth ; but not 
altogether without advantage. From the character of the 
innumerable heroines presented to my mind I formed an 
ideal of excellence; and many grains of wheat gathered 
from bushels of chaff were carefully stored in the treas- 
ure-heuse of memory. 

As I advanced in years and stepped upon the thresh- 
old of womanhood, my mirror plainly told me that, 
though comely and symmetrical, I was not to depend 
upon my "face for my fortune;" or, in other words, I 
could never expect to be a "belle" on account of my 



140 Julia A. Tevis. 

beauty. I decided, therefore, that my attractions must 
be of the mind. 

I read history, travels, biography, and general litera- 
ture ; learned much of the known world through the eyes 
of others; acquired a knowledge of Scotland and England 
through the writings of the "Great Unknown," which I 
read as they were issued from the press. It was a ban- 
quet of sweet things to my intellectual taste, never cloy- 
ing. As far as I can judge, I retained the good without 
any of the evil. Certainly the reading of Scott's histor- 
ical novels tended to purify my taste for fiction, and 
turned my attention more immediately to history. 

At this critical period I began to acquire a taste for 
solid reading and useful information. A new world was 
open to me. I did not, however, lay down any plan for 
mental improvement, but tried to store my mind with 
the most useful knowledge. I have found reason, again 
and again, to be thankful that my thoughts were turned 
at this period into a channel which saved me from the 
desire of entering too early into society, and checked a 
career that might have been marked with the merest 
frivolities — resulting from a naturally gay disposition and 
exuberant spirits. 

I spent one of my Summer vacations in Mrs. Stone's 
house, that I might profit by the instruction and conver- 
sation of our French governess, who alone, of all the 
teachers, remained during the holidays. We walked, 
talked, and read together ; and as Mademoiselle was my 
sole companion, and spoke English too imperfectly to 
make it a pleasure to converse with her in that language, 
I was compelled to use the French, though she was as 
anxious to learn English as I was to learn her language. 
Her blunders were my principal source of amusement. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 141 

We were one morning very much interrupted by the 
noise of a crying child, who was neglected by its mother, 
the cook. "Ecoutez," cried Mademoiselle; " 't is vil- 
lanous; dis woman no care if the leetle child die; she be 
bad more than the cow — when the leetle cow cry the 
meVe no forget to mind him." She once said to me, 
"The English grammaire is noble, magnifique for every 
ting but de conversatione; me no never pronounce de 
langage, but me have learned toute la grammaire by 
hell." I started with astonishment. She looked amazed, 
saw that she had committed some terrible blunder, but 
knew not how to explain ; finally, after many ineffectual 
attempts, I found she meant, "by heart." The want of 
analogy in the English language renders its pronunciation 
the most difficult in the world to foreigners. 

During the vacation alluded to I wrote and translated 
a great deal, which was of infinite use to me, in after 
life, as a teacher. A part of my time was spent in 
sketching, drawing, and painting — making only an occa- 
sional visit home. Mademoiselle stayed but a few months 
with us; and then returned to La Belle France, disgusted 
with the rudeness of American girls and with the En- 
glish language. 

Miss Hallet, a tall, dignified woman from one of the 
Spanish islands, took her place. She spoke English, 
French, and Spanish with equal fluency; and though cold 
and reserved in her manners, I was determined to make 
myself agreeable to her, in consideration of the superior 
advantages I might derive from her conversation. I ren- 
dered myself useful by assisting with the little girls' les- 
sons, and in various ways aiding her in her mental labors. 
She became genial, yet retained her Spanish stateliness 
to the very ends of her fingers and toes. "I like to live 



142 JuliA A. Tevis. 

in America," she said; "but I fear I shall never become 
accustomed to the rapid evolutions of so fast a people." 
She told me that she landed in New York on the Sabbath, 
while the bells were ringing for morning service, and 
imagined, from their rapid walking, that the people were 
hastening to a fire. With her I learned to talk French, 
which she preferred to her native language, the Spanish. 

I have had frequent occasions, during a long career 
as a teacher, to rejoice that such facilities for the thorough 
acquisition of the language were thrown within my reach, 
and that I was wise enough sedulously to avail myself of 
them. I confess to an ambitious desire of becoming 
more than a mere atom floating in the sunbeam of pros- 
perity. I coveted a distinct individuality, yet it is my 
deliberate opinion that I also loved learning for its 
own sake. 

Many things occurred during my residence in Mrs. 
Stone's institution which might amuse and interest the 
present generation of pupils, but probably would not 
tend to their improvement. I remained with her until 
I entered my nineteenth year, at which time I left the 
precincts of the school-room as a pupil, and returned to 
my dearly loved home. My studies were not, however, 
abandoned ; some hours were daily devoted to reading, 
some to household duties; and I continued to receive 
tri- weekly lessons in French and music from excellent 
masters who came to the house. I practiced much on 
the piano (and, by the by, copied nearly all the music I 
used), but performed with more taste than execution. 

Ballad singing was much in vogue — the sweet Irish 
melodies and the touching songs of Burns, with occa- 
sional marches, waltzes, etc., seemed to please the taste 
of every body. We invariably played and sang the air. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 143 

We did not play an accompaniment and sing the air at 
the same time; but when we did sing we pronounced 
the words distinctly, and felt the sentiment expressed. 
We never inflicted tedious pieces upon our auditors — no 
matter how brilliant they were considered in our text- 
books, by which we acquired a knowledge of fingering 
and facility of execution. "Auld Lang Syne," "Roy's 
Wife," "Bonnie Doon," "Washington's March," and 
the "Cottage Rondo," were sung and played con amove. 

I enjoyed my stay at home — sweet home — in the midst 
of those loved ones, so much the more because hitherto 
I had been but a visitor there. 

To greet my father's cheerful face every morning — to 
rise sometimes before daylight, that I might accompany 
him to market (and we often went two miles for that 
purpose), where we saw the busy world in miniature — to 
spend a portion of each day with my dear, kind mother, 
trying in the mean time to help her bear the burden of 
her domestic cares, which were not a few, was a real joy to 
my heart; the very memory of which is like music to my 
soul, touching a chord connected with the fondest recol- 
lections of former years. Other memories bring but the 
shadows of things long since fled. 

The first Winter I spent at home was crowded with 
so many incidents that it seemed extended over a longer 
time than usual. My father's residence was near the 
Capitol; and several members of Congress, with their 
families, boarded with us, forming what was familiarly 
called "a mess," the family constituting a part of it. This 
afforded me an opportunity of becoming well acquainted 
with some of the most distinguished statesmen of the 
day; among whom were Henry Clay, Judge Poindexter, 
Dr. Floyd, Mr. Calhoun, and others. One of my most 



144 Julia A. Tevis. 

agreeable friends was an old gentleman — General Stevens, 
of Revolutionary memory — who had taken part in the 
destruction of the tea in Boston Harbor, and to whom I 
was ever a willing listener. When he spoke of the Revo- 
lution, he kindled a fire of patriotism in my heart that 
made me almost wish I had lived in those stirring times. 

I had another old friend who often discussed the poli- 
tics of the day with us, while I read to him the news- 
papers and journals. This was General R. J. Meigs, who 
had long been a Government Agent among the Indians. 
He had many stories to tell of those wild sons of the 
forest, whose wrongs and injuries bore heavily upon his 
heart; and while he spoke of the injustice of the whites 
towards them, and the sad extremities to which they 
were driven, he taught me to love, to pity and to forgive 
them. His son, the Postmaster-general, was a warm 
friend of my father, and kindly aided me afterwards in 
procuring an eligible situation as a teacher by his letter 
of recommendation. 

My gentleman friends at this time were all old men, 
who appeared to take pleasure in answering my curious 
questions. I learned much of my country, its Consti- 
tution and political affairs, from the discussions that were 
frequently carried on at the dinner table, to which I was 
ever an eager and interested listener; and yet, I can not 
say that I did not listen occasionally to the animated dis- 
cussions of my lady friends upon the color of a ribbon, 
the cut of a dress, or the fashion of a bonnet. 

One of the most interesting members of our family at 
this time was the young and lovely wife of an eminent 
Senator, who had distinguished himself as a judge, a gov- 
ernor, and as a legislator in the halls of Congress; and 
who was equally notorious for his separation from his 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 145 

first wife, who was still living; and for having killed his 
friend and benefactor in a duel. This second wife, of 
whom I speak, was a girl of scarce seventeen Summers, 
when he wooed and married her. Strange, indeed, that 
those who loved her most should have been willing to 
crush the bud of real affection in her heart, and sacrifice 
her to the glitter of wealth and pride of station ! 

I never can forget the first evening she came to our 
house — so fair, so beautiful. Her large blue eyes, shaded 
by deeply-fringed lashes, when raised to the face of the 
speaker, resembled the blue and cloudless heavens, lit 
with the cold and distant glory of the stars; and there 
beamed a softened light which penetrated the soul of the 
beholder. The dew was yet upon the blossom of her 
life, when found by this man of the world nestled away 
among the roses and woodbines of a widowed mother's 
humble cottage in Louisiana. Young and lovely, the 
damask of a happy girlhood still lingered on her cheek; 
her face was radiant as if an angel had left a kiss upon her 
brow. She had loved and was beloved by one every way 
worthy of so bright a jewel. He was poor (it was thus 
she told me), and they were to have been married as soon 
as he could get into some business by which he could 
maintain herself and mother comfortably. Entirely de- 
voted to each other, the future presented to them a para- 
dise on earth. They would gladly have spent life to- 
gether in the humblest home — but, alas! like the serpent 
among the flowers of Eden, the destroyer came, and so 
changed the scene, that never did bud or blossom bloom 
again in the garden of their young hearts. 

The timid girl, though long resisting the ambitious 
pleadings of her relatives — for her heart had no part or 
lot in the matter — and touched by the tender emotions 



146 Julia A. Tevis. 

of filial love, which prompted her to place her mother in 
an affluent home, yielded in an evil hour, dashed the cup 
of happiness from her lips, and stepped into a state of 
existence which rendered her life a burden, shutting out 
the purple mountains of hope forever from her view. 
She married; but her silken robes and glittering jewels 
covered an aching heart, and blanched the roses on her 
cheek; and if, indeed, angels camped around her, they 
had folded their wings in dismay and pity. The most 
careless hearts would have wept could they have pene- 
trated the tragedy of that life. 

Her bridal trip was to Washington, and her first en- 
trance into society was in the fashionable world of the cap- 
ital of this great nation. As the wife of a wealthy United 
States Senator she had the privilege, if such it might be 
considered, of being surrounded by splendor, and enjoy- 
ing all that could be enjoyed in high life. I distinctly 
remember her appearance when dressed for a levee at 
the President's. She was enveloped in snowy folds of 
the finest India muslin; jewels glittered amid her wavy 
brown hair, and shone with peculiar beauty upon her 
finely molded neck and arms. She looked the very per- 
sonification of youthful loveliness, as she lifted her timid 
eyes to the face of her haughty husband, filled with an 
expression of exaltation mingled with awe, melting into 
that trustful submission which marks woman's sacrificial 
devotion; and yet there were plainly seen, flitting across 
her face, varied emotions which told of an internal strug- 
gle to crowd back some passionate recollections that 
would not be still beneath all this paradeful splendor. 

Her husband was proud of her beauty, and well he 
might be; but he only looked upon her as reflecting the 
glory of his own ambition. Poor young thing! she 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 147 

sought my companionship and sympathy, for she was 
very near my own age, and nothing soothed her more 
than to pour into my willing ear the tale her sorrowful 
disappointment. So fleeting had been her early dream 
of love and happiness, that even then she recalled it only 
as a glimpse of heaven given in a dream, and shuddered 
when the "angel of memory rolled away the stone of 
apathy, " and bade her dead dreams arise. 

Night after night she was left to weep alone in her 
solitary chamber, while he, who had promised to love and 
cherish her, spent the waning hours at the card-table or 
at wine-suppers. She would sometimes send for me to 
come and sit a few hours with her. I learned to pity and 
love her, and never forget the lesson taught by her sad 
history. When we "choose our own ways" instead of 
seeking God's direction, we fall into sadness and sorrow, 
which nothing earthly can remove, and are utterly crushed 
beneath the tread of time. 

The finale of this sad story is woven into the history 
of many a life. The Winter over, she returned to her 
home, now a stately mansion half hidden among magnolia 
blossoms; but neither the fragrance of their lily cups, 
nor the glancing wings of the mocking-bird through the 
vine-covered bowers at evening, could bring comfort 
to her weary heart. A few short, bitter years, slowly 
marked by weary days and sleepless nights — the entreat- 
ies of her soul going up all the while to the source of 
mercy and power, hopeless, save in the goodness of God, 
she lingered on, until at last, through infinite mercy, her 
disembodied spirit was carried to the throne of light. 
She passed away, and soon another wife trod those lofty 
walls — a proud, haughty woman, who completely man- 
aged the decrepit and prematurely old man, who had 



148 Julia A. Tevis. 

killed with cold neglect the lamb he had cruelly taken 
from the fold of love. The victim had been adorned, 
and fell a sacrifice upon the altar of ambition. 

The vivid impressions made upon my mind during 
this period resulted from the ever-varying and exciting 
scenes amid which I lived. Our new formed republic 
had not yet reached a dignified maturity. The people 
were intoxicated with the liberty they enjoyed. The 
great men of the Revolution, whose stern Puritanism had 
contributed to rear the beautiful temple of liberty upon a 
respectable foundation, did not live long enough to secure 
its durability; and the noble warriors, whose blood had 
cemented the bond of union between the States, were 
sleeping their last sleep beneath the soil so dearly 
purchased. 

The fluctuating waves of a revolutionary war had 
scarcely subsided when the tocsin was again sounded, 
and liberty struggled for three years more to gain the 
ascendancy. This accomplished, the people were enjoy- 
ing it, not in quiet gladness throughout the land; but, 
true to their Saxon origin, the genius of which is strong 
and rapid, were pursuing, with an unaccountable activity, 
avocations in business or pleasure. Strangers, like the 
locusts of Egypt, were flocking to our shores; and 
Washington, during the Winter, was filled with a multi- 
tude of office-seekers and foreigners, who were lookers- 
on, to see how this experiment of republicanism would 
work throughout so large an extent of country. But, 
alas! the disease of our race seems to be stupidity; and 
the propensity of the human mind is to forget that no 
superstructure can stand, unless founded upon religion 
and virtue. 

Our Congress, which ought to have been a model of 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 149 

wisdom, did not, even in its youthful vigor, always show 
the dignity expected in the councils of a great .nation. 
Statesmen of prestige, and of the highest ability, plunged 
into an excess of dissipation that would have disgraced 
heathendom. Some of our Senators, it is true, were 
grave and reverend, and among our Representatives were 
found men of great integrity and supereminent virtue ; 
but even to the eye of the uninitiated many of our legis- 
lators were utterly unfit to be intrusted with the impor- 
tant duties that devolved upon them. How often I have 
felt shocked to hear of the recklessness exhibited by men 
high in power, and in whose hands w r ere placed the dear- 
est rights of the people, suggesting the thought, "If 
such things are done in the green tree, what may be ex- 
pected in the dry!" 

At a dining party, upon one occasion. I heard a white- 
haired old man say to his neighbor: "I am a Senator from 
North Carolina, and when I left home I sold corn at 
twelve and a half cents a bushel to procure money for 
my contingent expenses whilst in Washington; and last 
night I was fleeced of every dollar at the gambling-table 
by the two honorable gentlemen who sit opposite me." 
It was said loud enough, and probably was intended, to 
be heard by his vis-a-vis; whereupon Mr. C, without 
the slightest change of color, arose, and in his blandest 
manner asked the old gentleman to take a glass of wine 
with him, as oblivious of the past and a pledge of future 
friendship. The gray -haired Senator took the offered 
wine, and, with his face composed to an expression much 
resembling that of a chief mourner at a funeral, replied, 
"I may forgive, but never forget." The two gentlemen 
replied by a hearty laugh, echoed by fair women and 
grave men. Novice as I then was in every thing that 



150 Julia A. Tevis. 

related to political affairs, I felt troubled for our newly- 
formed government. The idea of men legislating for 
millions of people, after spending the live-long night at 
the gambling -table, besotted with Avine and strong 
drink — one shudders to think of it! 

James Monroe, the fifth President of the United 
States, I had the pleasure of seeing often. A plain, 
unostentatious, honest man, diligent in business, he 
worked hard to secure the highest interest of his coun- 
try, though not then known to be the great statesman 
which time has since proved him. Mrs. Monroe was a 
perfect contrast to Mrs. Madison. The latter was a 
woman of superior elegance, devoted to society, and yet 
possessed of a clear head and an accurate judgment. She 
was said to be not only the better but the wiser half of 
Mr. Madison ; and while she could play with a lap-dog 
or grace a dining party, or be the cynosure of all eyes in 
a ball-room, she could preside in council, write out state 
documents, and give the finishing touch to the Presi- 
dent's Message. 

Mrs. Monroe's domestic habits unfitted her for the 
eternal round of receptions required in her position, 
and she very soon retired with disgust from the artificial 
surroundings of her station, abolished the weekly levees, 
and scarcely appeared, even on " New-Year's Day," to 
receive the greetings of the people. Yet she was ad- 
mired ; for, like Cornelia, she placed most value upon the 
jewels of her own household. A married daughter took 
her place in society, and gloried in the prestige of the 
Presidential Mansion. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 151 



Chapter X. 

Amid the scenes of my early girlhood, so many inter- 
esting incidents crowd upon my memory that it is 
difficult to make a selection. Every spot in and around 
Washington and Georgetown is connected with some 
pleasant association, some tender recollection. Our fam- 
ily circle was unbroken, save in the absence of my elder 
brother. I loved my mother tenderly, and almost wor- 
shiped my father; was happy in the very necessity de- 
volving upon me as the elder sister of paying much atten- 
tion to the younger children. Blessed arrangement of a 
kind Providence, that affection and solicitude are increased 
and deepened by the helplessness of those who are de- 
pendent upon us ! Dear little brothers and sisters ! every 
sigh that rent their hearts made my own quiver with 
pain; so every joy I shared with them was rendered 
doubly dear. Even now my heart swells with emotion 
when I think of our wanderings in search of wild flowers 
on the borders of the little stream which then so sweetly 
murmured over its pebbly bottom at the foot of Capitol 
Hill, and of our moonlight walks in the midsummer, 
watching the pleasure boats as they floated gently down 
the river with gay streamers and snowy sails, and I can 
almost hear the sound of the flute falling upon the en- 
tranced ear. 

There was a little island sleeping on the bosom of the 
Potomac — an emerald of surpassing loveliness in Spring, 
and of glowing beauty in Summer. It attracted many 



15 2 Julia A. Tevis. 

visitors, who were welcome through the kindness of the 
benevolent owner — a Mr. Mason, who, like Alcinous, 
made every visitor an honored guest. One of his daugh- 
ters was a schoolmate of mine at Miss Taylor's, and I 
must confess I sometimes envied her the possession of 
such a home, and often, while wandering through the in- 
tricate mazes of that luxuriant spot, felt sorry that she 
could not enjoy it as I did. Alas, poor girl! she was an 
invalid, a subject for sympathy; and I, possessing exu- 
berant health, should have been very unwilling to ex- 
change places with her. 

How truly may it be said that this is a world of com- 
pensation ! Mine was comparatively an humble home, 
but I had good health and an active mind ; Miss Mason's 
was one of luxurious surroundings, which she could not 
enjoy with her weak and frail body. I knew of the 
elegancies of that earthly paradise, but nothing more, 
save that pale disease flitted occasionally through the fam- 
ily mansion and somber clouds hid the bright sunbeams 
from the buds and blossoms of Hope; and that finally 
this lovely island was sold to a stranger from a far-off 
country, who "was not of us," and then the young peo- 
ple from Washington and Georgetown sought another 
spot for their picnics and holidays. 

One may be pardoned for dwelling so long upon the 
scenes of early life, the impressions are so vivid. The 
flowers we knew in childhood do indeed fade; their petals 
may perish, but the fragrance is with us still. The heart 
keeps every joy of former years that is worth preserving, 
and the flitting visions of happiness known in this world 
shall grow into paramount bliss in heaven. 

The current of my life flowed smoothly until I entered 
my twentieth year, — then came a tide of misfortunes 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 153 

which well nigh sank our family into despair. Poverty, 
sudden and unexpected, came by one of those not un- 
common catastrophes expressed in these bitter words, 
"Taken for security debts." My father was a generous 
man, liberal to profusion, and had never learned to man- 
age dollars and cents economically. He could not say 
"nay" to a friend who wished to borrow. In an evil 
hour he indorsed to a large amount for one who proved 
a traitor to the best of friends. The integrity of my 
truly excellent father forbade his taking any advantage by 
that evasion so often practiced under such circumstances, 
and which amounts to downright swindling. He placed 
all his property at the disposal of the creditors, not re- 
serving even the smallest amount of personal property. 

There was no hiding away of silver spoons or valuable 
plate, — even my paintings were sold at auction; but what 
grieved me most was the loss of my piano — one of supe- 
rior tone and quality, knocked off under the hammer for 
thirty -five dollars. Then came the pinchings of close 
economy, which, notwithstanding the industry of my 
mother and the untiring energy of my father, failed to 
place us in comfortable circumstances again ; and it was 
found so exceedingly difficult to live in Washington that 
.my father resolved to seek a home in St. Louis, where 
he had friends and relatives who were willing to aid him 
in procuring some lucrative business. 

Before he left I had sought and obtained a situation 
as a teacher in the interior of Virginia. In this I Avas 
aided by the influence of some kind friends in high 
places, who, being persuaded of my fitness for the posi- 
tion, soon procured me ample patronage. But, alas! the 
place selected for my new home was at the distance of 
three hundred miles, which I was to travel by stage in the 



T54 Julia A. Tevis. 

dreary month of December, and over the worst of roads, 
three weeks being the time required to accomplish it. 

I was placed under the care of a respectable old gen- 
tleman who lived at Wytheville, whither I was going to 
try my fortune as a school-ma'am. The afternoon upon 
which I left my home can never be effaced from my 
memory. Ours was a silent meal, as we surrounded for 
the last time the family board together. My tears flowed 
fast, and every mouthful of food that I attempted to 
swallow seemed as if it would choke me. Though my 
own heart was breaking, I tried to smile, that my dearly 
loved father and mother might the better bear my de- 
parture. The scene that followed that meal is indescrib- 
able. I left the house clinging to my father's arm, with- 
out daring to look behind me; and he handed me into 
the stage-coach after one more convulsive pressure in his 
arms. I closed my eyes for a moment in agony, — and 
when I opened them again he was gone. I never saw 
him more. I can not now, after the lapse of nearly fifty 
years, dwell upon this without anguish — 't is never to be 
forgotten "while life or being" lasts. 

We tarried, my old gray-headed friend and I, the first 
night in Alexandria. Externally it was a dreary night — 
the wind blew, and the cold raindrops pattered on the 
pavement, as we drove up to the gloomy-looking old 
tavern where the stage stopped. Our supper was cheer- 
less — mine was untasted. Retiring early to my solitary 
chamber, a flood of tears relieved my overcharged heart, 
and with tolerable composure I began to make arrange- 
ments for a night's rest. The wind was whistling through 
the long, wide passages of the old tavern, rattling the 
broken shutters, and roaring in the empty closets, of 
which there were two in the chamber I occupied ; and 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 155 

then, to cap the climax, my door had no fastening. I 
placed the table against it, and upon the table a chair, 
and, surmounting all, my little old hair trunk (for who 
ever heard of a Saratoga trunk in those days?), so that, 
if any one should attempt to enter, the noise of the fall- 
ing furniture might awaken me. Useless precaution ! I 
slept none ; and the gray dawning light found me still 
treating my pillow to a tear-bath, and resolving, in the 
agony of my soul, that I would abandon my journey, 
and return home. 

A bright morning sun, however, dispelled much of 
the gloom that surrounded me; and better thoughts, 
with happier anticipations, enabled me to go forward in 
the path of duty. I had always a very strong confidence 
in an overruling Providence, and it seems to me now that, 
even when a child, my faith in the goodness and mercy 
of God formed a part of my very being. I began to 
pray at so early an age that I can scarcely date the 
period; and I then lifted up my heart as sincerely in 
prayer to God, believing as firmly in his existence and in 
his parental love as I have done ever since, though my 
expanded mind and maturer judgment, with the constant 
experience of his loving-kindness, have rendered me more 
deeply sensible of my own unworthiness of the multiplied 
mercies that I have enjoyed. 

After leaving Alexandria we had a disagreeable jour- 
ney of several days over roads almost impassable, with 
frequent joltings over corduroy bridges, before we reached 
Richmond. Here we rested for a da)-, as we had yet a 
journey of nearly two weeks before us; and here I had 
the good fortune to make the acquaintance of a citizen 
of Wytheville, Granville Henderson, Esq., a member of 
the Virginia Legislature, then in session. Mr. Hen- 



156 Julia A. Tevis. 

derson was a man of excellent abilities, sound judgment, 
and a warm heart. He showed me much kindness, and 
manifested great interest in my welfare; giving a cheer- 
ing account of my future prospects, insisting, at the same 
time, that I should make his house one of my homes, 
especially during his absence, as his wife was alone with 
the exception of a little daughter, who would be one of 
my pupils. "Mrs. Henderson," he added, "was antici- 
pating my arrival with great pleasure, as were other pros- 
pective patrons of the school." 

I visited both houses of the Legislature, composed of 
very respectable and dignified looking men, who appeared 
to transact business with quiet decorum and great dis- 
patch; the members showed more respect and polite- 
ness towards each other than is usually seen in legis- 
lative halls. 

The principal object of interest in Richmond was the 
Monumental Church, founded on the very spot where the 
theater was burned. This melancholy and startling event 
marked the close of the year 181 1. During the repre- 
sentation of a popular tragedy, "The Bleeding Nun," 
the stage scenery caught fire from the lamps. It was at 
first thought to be a slight affair, as the fire was promptly 
arrested, and supposed to be entirely extinguished; but, 
in less than five minutes after, the exciting cry of fire! 
fire! was heard from behind the scenes, and the actors 
came rushing across the stage in the greatest confusion ; 
some on fire, others striving to pull down the burning 
curtains. The terrific scene that followed was beyond 
description. There was but one mode of egress from the 
theater, and the flames were spreading with unexampled 
rapidity; the passage was so crowded in a few minutes 
that many were trampled to death ; some sprang from the 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 157 

upper windows, and others tried to escape across the 
stage, though it was enveloped in flames. Seventy-two 
persons lost their lives in the conflagration ; among them 
the Governor of Virginia. The inhabitants, while the 
flood-gates of grief were open in their hearts, and sorrow 
a living object before them, planned this church as a 
memorial of the dead buried under the ruins of the old 
theater. They poured out their money like water. Art, 
taste, and genius lent their aid, and the work went on 
rapidly for a while; but more and more slowly, as the 
awful scene faded from their memory, and the building 
in 1 8 19 was yet unfinished, though another theater had 
been erected in another part of the city, as if to show 
how narrowly joy may be partitioned off from sorrow ; 
how the merry-hearted and the broken-hearted may be 
unconsciously pillowed in proximity ; and how the world 
jogs on in its daily routine indifferent to the feelings of 
either. 

What a picture of the instability of human charac- 
ter — the evanescence of human feeling. The church, 
however, is now finished with a monument in front — the 
pale, cold, beautiful marble pointing heavenward in com- 
memoration of the event. 

A gentleman of undoubted veracity, and not in the 
least tinctured with superstition, collected and published 
some remarkable dreams and mysterious forebodings of 
coming events connected with this awful catastrophe, one 
of which still lingers in my memory. A young officer 
had procured tickets for himself and his betrothed, an 
interesting girl of great worth and beauty, whom he had 
persuaded to attend the theater with him on that fatal 
night. She was opposed to such amusements, but prom- 
ised to accompany him for this once, as he was to leave 

11 



158 Julia A. Tevis. 

the next morning to join his regiment. Calling for her 
at the appointed hour, he found her in tears. "Why, 
Mary, what is the matter? why are you not ready? You 
surely do not intend to disappoint me. Come, we have 
not a moment to spare." She shook her head sadly, as 
she raised her tearful eyes to meet the reproachful look 
of her lover. "It is of no use, Edward, I can not, I 
dare not go." "What ! can you have the heart to refuse 
me this little request, when I leave you to-morrow — it 
may be forever? I know you are a Christian, Mary, but 
I did not think you so sanctimonious as to condemn this 
innocent recreation; but," he added, betraying consid- 
erable nervousness at seeing no smile in her half-averted 
eyes, and receiving no response from her trembling lips, 
"tell me the cause of this sudden change." She replied, 
with some hesitation, "I dreamed last night we were in 
the theater, and deeply interested in the performances, 
when the cry of fire was heard, and the whole house was 
enveloped in flames. Amid the alarm and confusion that 
followed we were attempting to force our way down 
stairs, and were crushed to death by the advancing 
crowd." "All this is sheer nonsense," said Edward. 
' ' Dreams go by contraries. You can not possibly be so 
superstitious as to make this a pretext for staying at 
home." An unwonted pallor spread over the face of the 
young girl, and she shuddered as if striving to suppress 
the intensity of her feelings. Overcome by the pressing 
entreaties of her lover, and dreading the ridicule of 
her gay friends, she reluctantly consented to go; but 
her fears were not dispelled. Edward and Mary went, 
but never more returned. Her dream was literally veri- 
fied ; they were actually trampled to death in the gal- 
lery, and their remains could only be distinguished 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 159 

among the heaps of crushed and mangled bodies by 
his silver-hilted dagger and the inscription on her en- 
gagement ring. 

Many premonitions and warnings by dreams and other- 
wise were recorded in that book. Perhaps great calami- 
ties have some mysterious power given them to send 
forward a dim presentiment of their advancing footsteps, 
impressing the mind with the idea that in to-day already 
walks to-morrow. 

At the end of three weeks we arrived at Wytheville, 
just in time to be at the marriage of the oldest daugh- 
ter of my good old friend and traveling companion, 
Mr. Oury. The stage drove up early in the forenoon to 
his door, where we were met by the whole family, and 
received with that warm cordiality which belongs to Vir- 
ginia and to Virginians. We were ushered into a com- 
fortable room, and I felt that we were surrounded by 
warm hearts; every body talked, and nobody listened. 
Scarce two hours had elapsed after my arrival, when Mrs. 
Smith, Mrs. Henderson, her daughter, and other ladies 
came, in the friendliest manner, to welcome me to Wythe- 
ville, and each one begged that I should make her house 
my home. 

If time were always counted by incidents, how much 
longer would some days be than others ! That day would 
have made a week of ordinary life. 

On leaving Washington for Wythe, a letter was handed 
to me by General Daniel Parker, recommending me to 
the "most favorable consideration of those whose ac- 
quaintance" I might "wish to cultivate." Shortly after 
my arrival at my new home I was gratified to know that 
the kindness of my friends at Washington was yet fol- 



160 Julia A. Tevis. 

lowing me, as the subjoined letter from Dr. John Floyd, 
then a member of Congress, will show: 

Washington, January 20, 1820. 
Miss Julia, — I spent the evening a day or two ago with your 
father and mother. They informed me you had gone to Wythe C. 
H., at the instance of General Smyth and Mrs. Oury, and wished 
me to write to you and inclose a letter to some of my friends in 
that part of the country. This I do with great cheerfulness ; at the 
same time I am persuaded that the friendship of Mrs. Oury and 
General Smyth make it almost unnecessary. Your family are quite 
well. With respect, your obedient servant, 

John Floyd. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 161 



Chapter XI. 

Wytheville was noted for a total indifference to 
religion. There was not a church or any place 
of worship in the town. The only preacher in the vi- 
cinity was of the Dutch Reformed Church. His exam- 
ple was of the worst kind — carousing, drinking, cock- 
fighting, and playing cards during the week, with an 
occasional sermon on the Sabbath to a sleepy, ungodly 
congregation, that seemed to know as little about the 
truths of the Gospel, as if our Savior had never made 
his advent into the world. Strange to tell, however, 
there was much refinement among the better class; for 
this we do not generally expect where there are no godly 
ministers and no churches. Politeness, kindness, and true 
Virginia hospitality reigned pre-eminently. 

My first introduction into their midst was at the wed- 
ding before mentioned. The company was collected 
before six o'clock. The ceremony, which took place 
about seven, was novel and, to me, very interesting. 
The minister took his station with his back to the fire- 
place; the bride and bridegroom walked in first, each 
having an attendant holding a lighted candle, as if to give 
•the company full opportunity for seeing them distinctly. 
The minister began the service, and every one rose. The 
windows, being open, were soon filled with the black 
faces and woolly heads of the servants, who had collected 
to see "young missus" married. The ceremony was 
long, followed by a tedious lecture, at the close of which 



1 62 Julia A. Tevis. 

was the usual amount of kissing, which occupied nearly 
an hour. We were then ushered into the ball-room, 
the bride and bridegroom occupying the first place in a 
"Virginia reel." The "new school-teacher," who had 
previously received an introduction to nearly every body 
present, was taken out and placed third in the set. 

I was passionately fond of dancing, but would have 
preferred being a spectator on that evening had I not 
been afraid of giving offense. Some amusing mistakes 
were made in the various attempts to speak correctly the 
unpronounceable name of " Hieronymus. " My first 
partner asked the pleasure of dancing in the reel with 
"Miss Roundabuss;" the next, a lad about seventeen, 
very pompously called me "Miss Hippopotamus." Aft- 
erwards came a young disciple of ^Esculapius, who had 
recently put up his Galen' s-head in the town, and whose 
family I knew in Winchester. He thought he had the 
name precisely when he called me "Heterogeneous;" 
others called me "Hatrogenous;" but all agreed that it 
was far easier to call me "Miss Julia Ann," and this was 
almost universally adopted. 

At twelve o'clock my principal lady patroness, Mrs. 
Smyth, who had claimed me from the first as her guest 
and boarder, carried me off to her own quiet home, not 
a hundred yards distant. The dancing continued all 
night, and many of the guests were invited to breakfast 
the next morning at Mr. Oury's hospitable house; and 
the gay young folks who had not succeeded in "tiring 
each other down" the night before continued their danc- 
ing until noon. 

My first night at Mrs. Smyth's was spent sleeplessly, 
but with feelings of the deepest gratitude to God that I 
had found so much kindness among strangers. True, I 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 163 

had left a home to which in all probability I was never 
to return, — never again to meet in the home circle father, 
mother, brothers, and sisters. I was now to stand alone, 
and must necessarily rely upon myself. The broad high- 
ways of the world were now before me, and I must 
emancipate myself from all customary indulgence, take 
my place among the thronging multitude, and commence 
life's struggle in earnest. 

Oh, how my solitary spirit yearned to see once more 
those whom I had left behind! No more sweet girl 
friendships, no more pleasant walks and drives along the 
banks of the lovely Potomac — a name that even now 
touches the tenderest chord in my heart, and stirs up 
the life-blood in my old veins! A long and weary 
way, the difficulties of which I shuddered to think of, 
separated me from those I had loved and cherished from 
the first dawn of life. Oh, how much anguish is often 
crowded into our hearts, battling with bitter memories ! 
But in the midst of all this darkness the trembling star 
of Hope still faintly shone, and ere the rosy light of 
morning came my soul felt stronger, and with the natural 
elasticity of a cheerful disposition I commenced immedi- 
ately to prepare for my new vocation. I soon learned 
that the life of a faithful teacher must be one of toil and 
unremitting care. All my fairy visions of romance faded 
into stern reality as my responsibility for others increased. 

And now came to my aid those early lessons of piety, 
so deeply impressed upon my mind, not only by home 
influences, but by the privileges enjoyed under the min- 
istry of the Rev. Mr. Hawley. I was a regular attend- 
ant, having been baptized and confirmed there, though 
not a communicant, and consequently not recognized as 
a member of the Church. 



1 64 Julia A. Tevis. 

But to return to my school. I rented a large upper 
room in a house contiguous to General Smyth's. The 
kindness of my patrons relieved me from all trouble and 
expense as regarded desks, benches, etc. My school- 
room was neatly fitted up for the accommodation of 
thirty or forty pupils. All the little misses in the village 
attended — some grown girls — and a few little boys. A 
few of the girls were larger and considerably taller than 
the teacher. One, I remember, stood over six feet in 
her shoes, and had seen but sixteen Summers. This, 
however, was an exception. 

The first day, with all its petty vexations, passed off 
smoothly, though I retired at night with an aching heart, 
burdened with a painful interest for my pupils. I was 
rather doubtful whether, with my inexperience and want 
of tact, our association would be for weal or woe. I 
began again the next morning with renewed vigor, class- 
ing and arranging my pupils so as to give me as little 
trouble as possible; and then commenced my course of 
instruction with the elementary principles. By the end 
of the first week I had learned an important lesson myself, 
which can not be too deeply impressed upon a teacher's 
mind. A person who has not the patience to communi- 
cate knowledge, drop by drop, should never undertake 
the instruction of ignorant children, since it is impossible 
to pour into their minds by copious streams. • The heart, 
too, must be deeply interested in the work, or there will 
be no success. That teacher, who feels no conviction of 
the importance of the cause, and no solicitude about the 
issue, should give up the office. 

And now, like a beam of light across the shadows of 
the past, comes the memory of my much-loved pupil, 
friend, and companion, Fiances Smyth, who, though only 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 165 

fourteen years of age, rendered herself both useful and 
agreeable to me. A certain expression of frankness about 
her won my heart immediately. So natural and without 
disguise was her character, and so winning the simplicity 
of her manners, due to her child-like innocence and sweet 
feminine timidity, that she soon became the sunshine of 
my daily existence, helping to dispel the clouds that 
sometimes gathered around my heart. There was some- 
thing noble in the lineaments of her fair face, brilliantly 
lighted up at times, and corresponding with her graceful 
figure. Eves "bright and blue as the Summer sky," and 
a mouth trembling with half-smiles, arising from the very 
buoyancy of inward gladness; a complexion enriched by 
the sweetest and most delicate bloom, allied to a tone of 
cheerfulness; and her every motion so light and free that 
a poet might have supposed her some "Hebe or fair 
young daughter of the dawn." She was my constant and 
efficient aid in carrying out every arrangement; yet she 
was gentle, confiding, and one of the most obedient of 
my pupils. 

My first serious difficulty was with a little girl about 
ten years of age, the youngest child of a large family, who 
had been badly spoiled at home. She was noisy, indo- 
lent, and impatient under restraint. Continually teasing 
and annoying others, this little nettle-top went on from 
bad to worse, until endurance was no longer a virtue. I 
was anxious to keep her in school, as I had five from the 
same family, and it was quite to my interest to get along 
pleasantly with her. But it could not be. One afternoon 
her resistance to my authority reached its climax; so I 
quietly removed her from the school-room to an adjoining 
apartment and gave her the well-merited punishment with 
my slipper, the first she had ever had in her life. Her 



1 66 Julia A. Tevis. 

screams were terrific. There was an awful silence in the 
school room, and you might have heard a pin drop, as I 
led her back, and, placing her bonnet on her head, ordered 
her to go home and never return. I then quietly resumed 
my seat, and the lessons proceeded as usual until the 
hour of dismissal. 

I remained alone until nearly night, weeping, praying, 
and struggling to conquer what I thought my own ungov- 
ernable temper. I began to think that teaching was not 
my vocation. I understand it all now. I was well pleased 
so far as the dictatorial part was concerned. In the con- 
trol I had hitherto exercised over my sisters while at 
school, I had never been contradicted; and, notwithstand- 
ing the constantly recurring petty trials in early life, I 
had not learned how to be calm and unmoved when my 
will was opposed. Every possible pains had been taken 
to secure for me the best education. I had been the idol 
of my father's heart, and the object of my mother's ten- 
derest solicitude; but, while the love of knowledge was 
carefully instilled into my mind, I had failed to learn that 
modest diffidence in reference to my attainments, which 
presents an effectual barrier to disagreeable parade and 
pedantry. Every thing I did at home was excellent, and 
no opportunity was lost to parade my attainments to 
friends and visitors. The shock I sustained in being 
obliged to devote my talents to the dull routine of a 
school-room, instead of making a display in society, was 
terrible; but a sense of duty to God and to my parents 
sustained me. I knew I could teach, and I determined I 
would not be an inferior teacher. But let me here re- 
mark that young persons should cultivate a humility with 
regard to themselves, which is the life and soul of youth- 
ful exertion. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 167 

After this contest with my little pupil, I retired to my 
room with a violent headache, deeply humbled, but per- 
fectly determined to sustain my dignity at all hazards. 
The first voice that I heard in the morning uttered this 
expression with deep feeling: "She will drive away all 
her pupils; people will not submit to such correction." 
"I hope not," was the gentle reply, "and I'm sure she 
had better commence in the right way, and let them 
know what is due from the pupil to the teacher." This 
I heard as I descended the stairs which opened into the 
breakfast-room. General Smyth was there, looking cold 
and reserved. Frances ventured one kind glance from 
her sunny blue eyes, but Nancy, her younger sister, sat 
trembling, with her face flushed to an unusual redness, 
and my sweet little Nannie Henderson, the grand- 
daughter, a child six years of age, seemed fluttered and 
amazed at my presence. • Mrs. Smyth bade me good 
morning with her usual cordiality. No one spoke during 
the breakfast except by way of courtesy. 

I went immediately after this silent meal to my school- 
room. It was early, but most of the girls were already 
assembled, some conversing in an undertone, others study- 
ing diligently. I spoke pleasantly to them, and gave 
kindly answers to the few timid questions asked about 
their lessons, though my heart was oppressed in reference 
to the possibility of my losing five pupils instead of one. 
I would not, however, have taken a step backward if I 
had lost my whole school. But, lo! I had scarcely fin- 
ished calling the roll, when in walked my refractory 
pupil, followed by the other four. The little girl walked 
rather irresolutely to my desk and placed a note in my 
hand. She stood with downcast eyes while I read it. 
The contents were somewhat in this style: "Please re- 



1 68 Julia A. Tevis. 

ceive my penitent little girl again, with the positive assur- 
ance that every thing shall be done to prevent future 
trouble ; and we will aid you in subduing and punishing 
any disobedience on her part. We are satisfied that you 
will do every thing in your power to promote her high- 
est interest, and are willing to leave the matter in your 
hands." 

The struggle was over. She remained with me as 
long as I was in Wytheville, first an obedient, afterward 
an affectionate pupil. I loved her the more because she 
profited so well by my correction. Indeed, the whole 
family continued among my best and fastest friends, and 
I had the pleasure of meeting some of them after a lapse 
of many years. 

Indolence may be sometimes excited into action when 
it can not be driven ; and often a vice, though it may not 
be forcibly and immediately eradicated, may be starved 
and withered in the shadow of an opposite virtue, by a 
skillful and assiduous cultivator; but impertinence and 
resistance to legitimate authority, and, in fact, every 
species of disobedience in a school, must be promptly 
subdued. 

Previous to my leaving Washington, my kind pre- 
ceptress, Mrs. Stone, gave me, with the following letter, 
a great deal of instruction which I practically applied in 
teaching : 

City of Washington, January 2, 1820. 

Although an entire stranger at Wythe Court House, the interest 
I take in the future of my friend, Miss Hieronymus, is such that I 
can not help giving my testimony of her full capability to the in- 
struction of young ladies. During the three years of my intimacy 
with Miss Hieronymus, part of which time she was a resident in my 
family, her conduct in every respect has been such as to inspire the 
affection and esteem of all around her, and nothing reconciles me to 
the painful necessity of her going so great a distance from us, but 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 169 

the certainty that her talents are such as to make her useful to 
others and gain friends wherever she is known. Miss Hieronymus 
has had the advantage of being educated by an English lady who 
kept a large boarding-school in Washington, and having always 
paid the greatest attention to her studies and the instruction of those 
about her, she will now be rewarded for all her exertions by being 
useful both to others and herself. Anna Maria Stone. 

Mrs. Stone also gave me a number of patterns for 
drawing and painting, and a quantity of white velvet on 
which to paint in water-colors; trimmings for ball-dresses, 
belts, capes, aprons, and reticules were painted on this 
material. Red roses blushed in gay confusion among blue 
morning-glories and modest violets, half-hidden by a ver- 
dant covering of green leaves. I had attained great skill 
in the use of the pencil, and copied flowers from nature 
so correctly as rarely to need an India rubber. A few 
specimens of this ornamental painting, carried by my pu- 
pils to their homes, gained me quite a large drawing-class, 
which increased considerably the profits of the school. 

There were two or three pianos in the village, and a 
demand for music lessons soon came. I had been teach- 
ing the two Miss Symths from the commencement. They 
both learned rapidly; but the younger was a prodigy. 
She could play upwards of fifty tunes before she could 
reach an octave with her tiny fingers. Music seemed to 
dwell in her soul, and the sound of a musical instrument 
thrilled through her whole frame like electricity, and 
what was most astonishing she learned pieces with more 
facility by note than by ear. She never wearied practic- 
ing, and flew to the piano at playtime, rather than dance 
on the green with her young companions. When I left 
Wytheville she was only ten years old, and then played 
correctly nearly one hundred pieces — simple, to be sure, 
but it was wonderful. 



170 Julia A. Tevis. 

As I had no piano and was unable to purchase one, 
I could take but few music scholars, being obliged to go 
to the homes of my pupils to give lessons, between 
school hours. The first lesson I gave was at noon, a 
very lazy hour I must admit, and as I entered the parlor 
I found my pupil sitting in a large rocking-chair at the 
piano, swaying herself backward and forward, playing, 
and singing at the top of her voice. She had a fine ear 
for music, and had taken a few lessons from a lady in 
town, but played all her pieces by heart, never having 
learned her notes. 

"Good morning, Miss Julia Ann," said she, as I 
entered. "Take a seat, here 's your chair." 

"What!" said I, with astonishment, "do you intend 
to sit in that chair while taking your lesson?" 

"Why, yes; it is mighty comfortable and high 
enough, see!" 

With that she commenced running up and down the 
scales until I was perfectly astonished at her facility. 

"Stop," said I, "rise from that chair, and take the 
piano stool." 

"Oh, no, do n't, Miss Julia Ann; I shall be so tired 
sitting bolt upright." 

"You will oblige me by taking the piano-stool." 

"Well, Miss Julia Ann, and are you going to stand 
the whole hour?" 

"Yes." 

And I stood sullenly the full sixty minutes, pointing 
to the notes and instructing her. It was the custom 
then to give three lessons a week, an hour each, for the 
small sum of sixteen dollars per session. My pupil did 
not attempt the rocking-chair again at a lesson, though, 
I doubt not, she often practiced in that way. I after- 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 171 

ward learned to love this young girl for her amiability 
and proficiency. 

The fact is, I did not then realize the honorable 
position that a faithful teacher holds in society, and was 
yet mourning over my disappointed expectations. I had 
hoped to be a lady of literary leisure. A few years 
taught me more wisdom, and I learned to be sincerely 
thankful to my Heavenly Father that he chose for me 
a better and a more useful path in life than that of living 
for myself alone, floating down the stream of time with 
no higher aspiration than that of mingling with the 
"great and little vulgar" of this world. I wonder now 
that I ever should have desired it. I had no taste for 
fine dressing and did not enjoy fashionable life; would 
always have preferred a quiet country home to the 
amusements and frivolities of a city; and yet, had I 
chosen my own ways I should have been a mere item 
in this great world, nothing more. 

I soon found it impracticable to attend to my school, 
give lessons in Drawing and French, and do justice to 
my few music scholars, so I concluded early in the 
Spring to send for my sister to aid me. She was a fine 
performer on the piano and well qualified to teach both 
English and French. In the meantime I toiled on, and the 
more I had to do the more my energy increased. None 
of the labor-saving inventions patent now in every school 
were then known, not even the convenience of ruled 
letter-paper. Having no time during the day for extra 
duties, I was obliged to take the copy-books of the whole 
school at night to my room, which were first ruled and 
then the copies set. The teacher, if she did her duty, 
was as much a drudge out of school as in it. I was 
often obliged to sit up till twelve o'clock at night, copy- 



172 Julia A. Tevis. 

ing music, of which there was not a printed sheet in the 
village, preparing sketches for my drawing class, or ex- 
amining text-books. I never would teach a lesson that 
I did not thoroughly understand. A fatal mistake, made 
by some young teachers, is that of attempting to teach 
through the medium of a book, what they do not un- 
derstand themselves. This excites the contempt of their 
pupils. Children are scrutinizing observers. Providence 
has made them so, for they must learn every thing, at 
first, by imitation. 

The houses of YVytheville were built in close prox- 
imity; this promoted a kindly intercourse, that rendered 
the whole village almost like one extended household. 
The persons with whom I resided were pre-eminently 
aristocratic by wealth, position, and intelligence; but they 
assumed none of the airs of that self-styled class. Fami- 
lies, whose nobility is patent, no matter how great their 
rank or riches, are not afraid of coming in contact with 
the humbler classes of society, if their virtues entitle 
them to sympathy and respect. 

Health and poverty, so said General Smyth, charac- 
terized YVytheville; but I found its more definite char- 
acteristics to be genuine kindness and unostentatious 
hospitality. I never knew any suffering poor among the 
inhabitants. They dwelt in their own tenements, were 
cheerfully industrious, and lived plentifully — some luxu- 
riously. The abundance of pure air and fresh water in 
these healthful regions was a constantly recurring joy. 
The whole country was rife with rosy cheeks, nimble feet, 
brawny shoulders — athletic men and beautiful women. 

No wonder the inhabitants of mountainous districts 
become strongly attached to their homes, where mount- 
ain, valley, forest, living streams, and deep rivers please 



Sixty Years av a School-room. 173 

the eye and fill the heart with enthusiasm. New River, 
so remarkable for the variety of its flowing outlines, its 
bewildering mazes, and cloud suffused precipices, looking 
down gloomily on the quiet valley beneath, where flows 
the laughing, sparkling waters in which is mirrored as 
blue a sky as ever shown upon the eye of beauty, formed 
one of the attractions in the vicinity of Wytheville. A 
beautiful narrow glen, opening into a broad valley richly 
wooded, presented the agreeable prospect of substantial, 
well-built houses, surrounded by forest trees, extensive 
orchards, and cultivated fields. I can not forget my 
first visit to the house of a friend who lived in the 
midst of this panorama of loveliness. Words are in- 
adequate to convey an idea of the sublimity and gran- 
deur of the scene. A painter could give but a faint 
picture, for no canvass could reproduce the light and 
color that played around this charming region in Sum- 
mer; no skill could catch the changing hues of purple, 
green, and gold that bannered the horizon at sunset; nor 
the glories of the morning sun, when just appearing 
above the misty mountains, whose base afforded a fan- 
tastic and fitting channel for the gleaming river; some- 
times hid beneath shelving rocks, now rushing forth in a 
rapid torrent, and then flowing by many a quiet home- 
stead. Upon its banks were found the oak, the ash, the 
walnut, the maple, and the chestnut. Sheltered among 
the branches of these trees a myriad of singing birds 
poured forth their sweetest notes, the whole Summer 
long, making the air vocal and the spirit glad. In the 
dim distance were seen stately firs clinging to the rugged 
sides of the precipitous cliffs, all pointing upwards and 
seeming to have no common interest with the earth; but 
like the rocks amid which they grow, they remain ever 



174 Julia A. Tevis. 

stern, dark, and still. The celebrated "Hawk's Nest" is 
found on one of the highest and almost perpendicular 
precipices of New River; an Alpine eyrie fitted for birds 
of prey, and from which one might expect to see the 
circling flight of the American eagle. 

I found a kind and generous friend in Captain John 
Matthews, Clerk of the Court, who, having no daughter, 
sent his little son, Thornton Posey, about eight years of 
age, to school. This child became peculiarly dear to me. 
His sparkling eyes and always animated countenance 
showed every emotion of the generous, loving child, as 
evening after evening he came to my desk to demand 
the bundle of quill pens to carry to his father, who 
mended them at night and sent them back in the morn- 
ing. I had never learned to make or mend a pen, and 
steel substitutes were then unknown. This saved me 
much time and trouble, and the kindness of Mr. Mat- 
thews is written on my heart, not as with a pen, but as 
with the point of a diamond, never to be effaced. This 
is only one instance among the many kindnesses received 
from him and his excellent wife. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 175 



Chapter XII. 

I have spoken of my routine of school duties as being 
so various, that the question may be asked, How 
my time was divided, so as to give each duty proper 
attention? I used the monitorial system to some extent, 
which gave me an hour in the morning and one in the 
afternoon to attend to my French and Drawing; but in 
the same large room where the whole school was seated ; 
thus I had an opportunity of overlooking the appointed 
monitress, who heard the recitations of the younger chil- 
dren, and taught the a, b, abs, as successfully as I could 
have done it myself. The last half hour in the forenoon 
of each day was devoted to writing; my music lessons 
were given at noon and at night. 

I still retain a clear recollection of many interesting 
circumstances connected with my early teaching, and 
relevant to the object of this work. Some of my pupils 
were very lovely girls, and gave promise of future use- 
fulness in life; others possessed a brilliancy of mind that 
enabled them to improve rapidly, and were a constant 
source of delight to me. They come up now like 
beams of light through the opening clouds of the past ; 
and among these heart -shadows, so strangely dear, 
are visions that will not depart, — sweet memories that 
will never die. 

One among my Wytheville pupils forms a beautiful 
picture. Classical features, a well-formed head, crowned 



176 Julia A. Tevis. 

with hair dark as the raven's wing, a high, pale forehead, 
large, dreamy eyes, imparting an air of melancholy, might 
have characterized her as a Jewish maiden, had it not 
been for the beautiful clearness of her complexion. Her 
obliging disposition and lady -like manners rendered her 
agreeable to her school-mates and attractive to her friends. 
I have often looked at her as she bent quietly over her 
books during study hours, and thought her exceedingly 
beautiful, more like a dream of poetry than a visible 
reality, and I mentally repeated : 

"Earth hath angels, though their forms are molded 
But of such clay as fashions all below ; 
Though harps are wanting, and bright pinions folded, 
We know them by the love-light on their brow." 

This young lady was the daughter of a queer old 
Irish gentleman, who had amassed a fortune by indus- 
try and economy, and, having the good sense to know 
when he had enough, retired to a beautiful farm with his 
family, that he might enjoy it. He was a widower — 
three interesting daughters, and an only son, the pride 
of his father's heart and the idol of his sisters, formed 
the domestic circle. But the son upon whom so many 
hopes had been built was doomed to an early death by 
consumption. His leaf had already begun to wither on 
the tree of life ere he reached the age of twenty. He 
had genius, and would have distinguished himself as an 
author had he lived, — what he accomplished before he 
died left its impress. 

Oh, how many beautiful hopes and anticipations were 
buried in his early grave! But it was a blessing to know 
that the good seed of eternal life had already budded, 
blossomed, and brought forth fruit in his heart; and in 
his dark, lustrous eyes dwelt a holy light that spoke of 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 177 

better things than the earthly honors and distinctions so 
coveted among men. 

"The fadeless flowers of intellect shall bloom 
When youth, with all its pride, reposes 
Deep in the tomb." 

The earthly immortality of the mind is a type of the 
immortality of the soul. 

I had often been invited to visit the family; but long 
declined their invitations, simply because I had no suita- 
ble visiting dress, and I knew the Miss F. 's entertained a 
good deal of company. Finally, by Mrs. Smyth's advice, 
I determined to prepare myself for a little recreation in 
the country, and accept some of the many invitations 
given me. After much consultation, it was decided that 
I should purchase a black India satin. Five yards was a 
full dress-pattern, and would cost only a little upwards 
of six dollars. This, made to fit neatly, but without any 
extra trimming, was relieved by a rich collar of thread- 
lace and full cuffs of the same — some of the remains of 
my Washington finery — and gave me quite a stylish 
appearance. 

Why did I purchase a black dress? In the first place, 
black silks or satins were fashionable; and Mrs. Smyth 
thought I looked so well in my old rusty black silk that 
a new one would not only promote good looks, but 
economy. I wore no ornaments save a handsome pin 
that fastened my collar. I always had the impression 
that good taste required no decorations except those that 
were, or appeared to be, useful. Finger -rings and ear- 
rings I never wore, even in my gayest days; so that if I 
had any living grace it was not destroyed by ornament. 

One bright Friday afternoon I gratified myself, and 
doubtless gave much pleasure to my sweet young pupil, 



178 Julia A. Tevis. 

Sophie, by going home with her, to spend a day or two. 
This home was a beautiful one, in the midst of a pictur- 
esque country; and all its surroundings exhibited so 
much taste that I could but be convinced that the father 
possessed a genuine love of the beautiful, though he was 
an unlettered man. He met us at the gate. "Welcome 
ye are, see, madam" — his peculiar manner of expressing 
himself. "Come in, see; you 're right, see, Sophie, to 
bring the school-ma'am home with you. Here, Esther, 
come see the school-teacher. Glad we are, see, madam, 
to have you with us.." Being a widower, Miss Esther, 
the eldest daughter, . presided over the household affairs. 
Every thing bespoke energy, industry, neatness, and at 
the same time that entire comfort to be found in many a 
Virginia home. 

On Saturday we had a regular dining; some of the 
neighbors were invited, who paid me marked attention, 
as if they felt that I had conferred a favor by coming 
among them. 

Just before dinner was announced, my blunt but kind 
old host took his seat by me, placed his hand upon my 
satin sleeve, and, shaking his head ominously, said : 

' ' Fine ye are, see, madam ; too poor ye are to spend 
so much in dress." 

I was startled for a moment, the blood rushed to my 
face, my eyes swam in tears at this apparent rudeness; 
but after a moment's reflection I felt the truth of his 
remark, — I was dressed with apparent extravagance for 
a person in my condition. Satin and rich laces, with an 
immense comb of real shell — as was then fashionable — 
did seem inconsistent; but looking up into the old man's 
face, which shone with good humor and real interest, I 
laughingly replied: "Oh, no, you would not think so if 



S/A'TY Years in a School-room. 179 

I should tell you how economically all these have been 
preserved, and how little they cost me; and this is the 
only handsome dress I have in the world." 

"Well, well, right ye are, see, madam," and he 
pressed my hand kindly; "so, so let it be." 

His daughter was taking French lessons from me, 
and his next question was: 

"French woman ye are, see, eh? From Paris?" 

"No, sir, I am a native, of the United States, but I 
speak French fluently." 

An incident occurred at the dinner-table which will 
illustrate what an incessant talker I was. After the first 
course was removed, a servant passed around with a large 
tray filled with sweetmeats, preserves of various kinds, 
rich creams, etc. It was handed to me first, but instead 
of helping myself, as was expected, and suffering her to 
pass on, I placed one dish after another on the table 
around my plate talking all the time with great volubility 
to my neighbor, yet wondering why the servant did not 
place the things upon the table herself. I had scarce 
finished my arrangement, when she replaced them all 
upon the tray and passed on, leaving me minus every 
thing. I looked up and found there was a general titter 
going around the table at my expense, by which I dis- 
covered my blunder. Not the least confused, however, 
I joined in the laugh, which relieved the embarrassment, 
and, at the same time, made them feel kindly in spite of 
my awkwardness. 

The following Monday, after my visit above described, 
I returned to the school-room and attended to my duties 
with more than usual energy. The girls were good and 
industrious, and I think I discovered that day in some, 
who had seemed particularly dull before, the kindlings of 



i8o Julia A. Tevis. 

capacity, perhaps because I was rested and consequently- 
more patient. How true it is, that the smallest flame 
has its moments of brightness; and there is a period in 
the life of every child that may be turned to its own ad- 
vantage, enabling it to perform something good if not 
great. Experience has taught me that many of the sev- 
erest trials, and constantly recurring vexations of daily 
life, arise from our own want of preparation to struggle 
against them. Petty annoyances are the true touchstones 
by which the glittering gold of our philosophy is put to 
the test; the most boasted philosophy, when submitted 
to this test, is often found to sink into a common metal. 

About this time I became acquainted with the wid- 
owed mother of one of my pupils by the name of Crock- 
ett, a charming old lady, whose reminiscences of the war 
of Independence were full of interest for me. She showed 
me a dress of the olden time containing, to my astonish- 
ment, twelve or fourteen widths of rich brocaded silk, 
embroidered with large bunches of pinks and roses, all 
wrought with the needle; the skirt was so stiff that it 
would almost stand alone. It was worn open in front 
and had a train more than two yards in length, such 
being the fashion in the middle of the last century. Her 
father had paid twenty pounds sterling and a horse for 
the dress-pattern before the war. My tall pupil was the 
old lady's daughter. I paid many visits to this hospitable 
family, as they resided near town. 

So soon as the school was properly organized, I began 
to feel anxious that my pupils should spend the Sabbath 
in a religious manner — the Sabbath, "sweet bridal of the 
earth and skies" — that I had been accustomed to spend 
in church-going and in the quiet observance of religious 
duties. I have before mentioned that there was no place 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 181 

of worship in the town, no preaching except an occasional 
sermon from an itinerant preacher who held forth in the 
Court House; and none but the boldest of this class 
of preachers would venture to remain an hour after ser- 
vice for fear of some mischievous tricks being played 
upon him. 

I witnessed none of this irreverence, however, during 
my stay there. Whenever an appointment was made for 
preaching, I collected as many of my pupils as I could, 
and marched them two by two to the Court House, where 
we were honored with reserved seats inside the "bar." 
After service, I took them all back to my school-room, 
tried to enforce upon them the truths they had heard, 
lectured them, if necessary, and then sent them home. 

I remember only once attending preaching during the 
week. The Rev. Mr. Lorraine, with whose friends I 
afterward became well acquainted, and whose writings, 
particularly his articles in the Western Christian Advocate, 
I have since read with pleasure and profit, preached one 
Wednesday night in a deserted school-room. It was a 
contracted space for the large congregation, and many 
chairs, great arjd small, were crow r ded in between the 
rude benches. His discourse was eloquent. He pre- 
sented the benefits of religion so forcibly to his auditors 
that they actually began to talk of building a church, 
which, however, was not done whilst I remained there. 

My whole school w r as present at this meeting. I took 
special care always to make my pupils kneel down dur- 
ing prayer, though but few others did so. That memor- 
able night a mischievous girl who knelt opposite another 
on the same chair tied the strings of the sunbonnet of 
her vis-a-vis to the chair back, and when the poor child, 
who had been too devout during prayer to notice her 



1 82 Julia A. Tevis. 

companion, attempted to rise, the chair, with a sudden 
rebound, was thrown over her head, and nearly knocked 
a lady down. The culprit continued kneeling, afraid to 
raise her head for fear of detection. I understood the 
whole affair in an instant, and my mortification was ex- 
treme ; but you may be sure the delinquent was not per- 
mitted to pass unnoticed the next day. 

I know not how it is, but I have always been under 
the impression that sublime mountain scenery inspired 
devotion ; and the stillness that pervaded this wicked little 
place on Sunday, with the entire absence of the weekly 
din of mechanics, confirmed me in this opinion. There 
certainly were the faintly reflected beams of Christianity 
shining in all its surroundings, and seemed only to need 
an "angel to trouble the waters of the pool" to cleanse 
and heal the waiting people. I earnestly prayed that I 
might do my part in bringing in the children. 

Being well acquainted with the morning and evening 
service of the Episcopal Church, I adopted the plan of 
having all the girls meet at my school-room every Sab- 
bath morning for religious instruction. First I read the 
morning service, and then offering up an extemporaneous 
prayer, dismissed them. I strove at these meetings to 
make the girls feel that they were "treading on holy 
ground," trying to drive away the world with all its cares 
during this consecrated hour. My own heart enjoyed it. 

The worth of the Sabbath and its sweet associations 
can hardly be estimated until we find ourselves deprived 
of that dove-like peace which settles over the soul while 
discharging its hallowed duties. Time and eternity here 
meet for a few fleeting hours. "From earth to heaven a 
scale sublime rests on either sphere." A distinguished 
orator has said, "You might as well put out the sun and 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 183 

think to light the world with tapers; destroy the attrac- 
tion of gravity and think to wield the universe by human 
power as to extinguish the moral illumination of the Sab- 
bath and break this glorious main-spring of the govern- 
ment of God." When the Sabbath is conscientiously 
kept it arrests the stream of worldly thoughts, interests, 
and affections, soothes the heat and hurry of existence, 
and throws off the burden of week-day responsibilities, 
brings rest to the weary soul and renewed vigor to the 
body, and, best of all, gives us a special opportunity to 
make ourselves acquainted with the being, perfections, 
and laws of God. 



184 Julia A. Tevis. 



Chapter XIII. 

In March my sister came. She was young, but intelli- 
gent and well educated, and in every respect fitted 
to render me assistance. Spring had made its advent, 
but the weather was still cold when she arrived. Only a 
few trees had as yet ventured to put forth their scarce 
unfolded leaves, and the prolonged and melancholy sweep- 
ing of the wind proclaimed the continued reign of Win- 
ter. Emily was soon domesticated in a most excellent 
family, that of Mr. Richard Mathews, where she was ren- 
dered as happy as she could be under the circumstances. 

We spent our days together in the school-room, with 
an occasional interval devoted to talking of home and the 
dear ones there. Oh, blessed memory of those twilight 
hours, when, the school and all its cares forgotten, we 
transported ourselves to the dear love-nest of ' ' Home, 
Sweet Home!" 

Emily was as remarkable for industry and energy as 
I was for perseverance and hopefulness. She was often 
at the school-room at an early hour, and had kindled a 
fire upon the hearth, which spread a rich and cheerful 
glow around as if to welcome my appearance. I have 
known her to wade through the snow to perform this 
duty before sunrise, and then go back to her breakfast 
and return in time for the opening of school. Her de- 
votion to me was equal to that of a child to a parent; 
we had scarce ever been separated in our lives. As her 
chirography was remarkably beautiful, she entirely re- 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 185 

lieved me in the writing" department and copied nearly 
all the music we used. She brought from Washington 
several large bound books of her own copied music. 

Our first examination, held in June, was almost as 
new to myself as to my pupils; for since my school-days 
in Winchester, it had never been customary to have ex- 
aminations in any school that I attended; but it seemed 
to be the demand of the people here. I very well know 
that the desire proceeded principally from the wish to 
have the children brought forward in exhibition, rather 
than examination. A public examination is never a true 
test of what a child knows, although it does have a good 
effect in making the children more diligent with the view 
of having their knowledge brought out publicly. Re- 
views are certainly very improving, and many of the 
exercises on such occasions tend to develop ease and 
grace of manner, and, while they do not take away the 
modest diffidence so lovely in a female, they give a de- 
gree of self-confidence which is generally effectual in 
banishing awkwardness. 

I may as well say here, once for all, that I believe 
far more ease and elegance are acquired through the 
medium of poetical recitations, dialogues, and composi- 
tions than in the dancing-school. Many of these beau- 
tiful little dramatic scenes containing the purest morality 
and into which girls enter with infinite delight, forgetting 
themselves while personating others, I have successfully 
proved to be the best medium of promoting that grace- 
fulness which is universally supposed to be attained only 
by dancing. The idea was first suggested by a desire to 
avoid the dull routine of an examination in a foreign 
language, such as reading, translating, and conjugating 
verbs, for a long time the only method of exhibiting the 



1 86 Julia A. Tevjs. 

progress of a French class. A dialogue, though not one 
word may be understood, is an agreeable pantomine, 
always fascinating and at the same time showing the 
facility with which girls can chatter in French. 

My selections were from Berquin's "Children's Friend," 
and from the beautiful little dramas of Madame de Genlis, 
written expressly for her pupils and published under the 
title of "Theatre d' Education." Hers was a domestic 
school, and there is nothing purer than the morality 
taught in the family circles of France. I used also the 
school dramas of Madame Campan, composed for her 
school of young girls connected with the most distin- 
guished families of France. These were designed for 
exhibition before their own household and a few select 
friends; thus they were models of propriety. I had also 
the examples before me of Madame de Maintenon's suc- 
cess in promoting ease of manner and elegance of address, 
while the heart's best affections were cultivated by the 
rehearsal of those model little dramas, composed by Ra- 
cine at her request, expressly for the use of her protegees 
in the Seminary of St. Cyr, which she founded in con- 
nection with the convent of that name, and where, under 
her special supervision, nothing impure was ever per- 
mitted to enter. 

This examination closed my first half-year, and, of 
course, the material was somewhat raw ; but with the 
assistance of my sister and some of the older and more 
intelligent pupils, matters were so arranged as to give 
entire satisfaction to the community and infinite delight to 
my patrons. Owing to our success, the fame of which 
was spread abroad through the country, our next term 
opened with increased numbers, and the school became 
much more profitable. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 187 

I enjoyed the intervening vacation with a zest I never 
felt before. It was as the mellow moonshine to the path 
of the weary pilgrim. I took long walks, sat under shady 
trees, read interesting books, with my affectionate sister 
ever by my side. Frances Smyth was generally with us, 
gathering wild flowers, for she had already begun to take 
great interest in Botany. As the Summer advanced we 
gathered fruits and berries, which were very abundant. 
We wandered through the woods and up the mountain 
pathways and often tarried to watch the golden sunset, 
steeping in splendor each wood and dell, and flooding 
the Western sky with glory. How sweet the recollection 
now, and how almost impossible to realize the lapse of 
years — years full of joy and sorrow. 

At the close of one of those beautiful days, having 
retired to my room quite early, and while preparing for a 
night of balmy sleep, a servant girl knocked at my door 
and handed me a letter with a large black seal. My dear 
little Frances, who was my room-mate, and whose soul 
was full of sympathy for me, caught a glance of the seal, 
and, turning pale from apprehension, threw herself into 
the nearest chair, and covered her face with her hands. 
'Twas long before my trembling fingers succeeded in 
breaking the seal, and some minutes before I dared read 
the whole contents of that letter, the commencement of 
which ran thus: "My dear young friend, — I am so well 
aware of the deep affection you bear your family, that I 
can scarcely believe but you are making some arrange- 
ment to bring your widowed mother and the dear little 
orphans that are left to your present home." For some 
moments I was unable to read further; the word "or- 
phan" sounded like a death knell to my heart, which 
seemed only to be saved from breaking by deep sobs and 



1 88 Julia A. Tevis. 

groans, while my poor little Frances wrung her hands in 
utter despair at being unable to comfort me. After the 
lapse of an hour or two, I had read and re-read the con- 
tents of this sad letter in which was stated, not the 
whole, but the partial suffering of my mother and the 
children since the loss of my father, who had died some 
weeks before at New Madrid, Arkansas, having secured 
through the agency of Colonel Briarly, his warmly 
attached friend, an Indian Agency in that State, which 
would have been the home of his family had he lived. 
The letter concluded by saying, "I will see that your 
friends do not suffer while they remain here, and will aid 
you in getting them off." How kind, how considerate. 
True friendship shines out in bold relief in times of 
adversity, and "dies not in the storm." 

The remainder of the night my mind was occupied 
and somewhat soothed in planning for their removal; 
and I felt the truth of the expression, that active misery 
is more easily borne than self-indulgent sorrows. Our 
Heavenly Father has mercifully ordained that in thinking 
and doing for others we are measurably delivered from 
that weight of grief which worketh death. The sharp 
arrows of affliction, which would otherwise rankle in the 
heart and drink up its life-blood, rendering us unfit for 
earth and heaven, may be withdrawn by deeds of mercy 
and duty. 

Anxious and troubled as I was about my mother and 
her helpless little family, the night seemed interminably 
long. Day came at last, and, after consultation with my 
friends, I obtained, through their kindness, money enough 
to accomplish my purpose. This was borrowed, for all 
my own earnings had been previously used in the pur- 
chase of a piano. My plan, immediately put into execu- 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 189 

tion, left me nothing to do the remainder of the day but 
to read, think, and pray. How I blessed God, that he 
had given me a mother who had early taught me to carry 
my sorrows to a throne of grace; and now that he had 
taken my earthly father, I prayed that I might have a 
double share of his love. Yet, with all this, my mind 
would revert with inexpressible anguish to the departed 
one. Oh, if he had but been spared to return home to 
die in the arms of those he loved so tenderly, and his 
last loving looks and words been left as mementos in the 
bosoms of those who loved him. 

My affliction was increased by the pangs of remorse; 
his last affectionate letter had been to thank me for a 
small sum of money I had sent home, and to entreat me 
to write to him immediately, or he might not probably 
hear from me again, as he was about to leave home. I 
had neglected writing until it was too late ; this, with 
many other little omissions, that I would not have remem- 
bered had he lived, kept open the flood-gates of sorrow, 
and added to the poignancy of grief, and rendered me 
almost frantic under the dreadful stroke. A few weeks 
elapsed, and I had the comfort of being reunited with 
those I best loved on earth. My affection for them was 
increased tenfold. Ah! 'tis death that teaches heavy 
lessons, and hard to bear; yet it is often by such means 
that our great Creator brings out the exhaustless treas- 
ures of those heaven-descended virtues which prepare us 
for usefulness, and kindle anew the flames of undying 
love — at the same time, making the fire burn brighter on 
the domestic hearth-stone for those that are left. 

The memory of the delicate attentions bestowed upon 

my mother and the family by the little community of 

Wythe are beyond the oblivious touch of time. Pleasant, 

13 



190 Julia A. Tevis. 

too, the memorials of God's mercy to me at that period. 
If we were accustomed to rear an altar wherever we re- 
ceive a mercy, how many of these memorials would be 
presented in the retrospection of our lives : and the review 
of the past would create confidence for the future. I se- 
cured a pleasant boarding-house for my mother until I 
could make arrangements for housekeeping, which was 
very soon done. The house we procured was large 
enough to accommodate six or eight boarders, which 
added considerably to our income, and increased the repu- 
tation of the school. My mother's prudent economy and 
good management enabled us to live very comfortably. 
The children were all at school, while my mother had 
them under her own moral and religious training. 

Time wore on, and we were becoming so well recon- 
ciled to our situation that we regarded Wytheville as our 
permanent home. We had two young ladies from North 
Carolina placed under our care, the elder of whom was 
a devotedly pious Methodist; and was, as I afterwards 
understood, then engaged to a Methodist preacher, whom 
she would marry on her return home at the close of the 
year. She was one of my best students; and while sit- 
ting quietly at her desk one morning poring over her 
books, a knock was heard at the school-room door, which 
opened into the street. A servant entered with a note for 
Miss Dickson. It contained the request that she would 
go to the tavern immediately to meet the Rev. Mr. K. , 
who was just from her home with letters, etc. I desired 
the servant to inform the gentleman that if he wished to 
see Miss D. he must call upon her, for she could not go 
to the tavern. Scarce half an hour elapsed when the 
door of the school-room again opened — but without a 
knock this time — -and in walked the Rev. Mr. K. With- 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 191 

out taking the slightest notice of anybody in the room 
except Miss D., he advanced and took a seat at her desk 
without invitation, crowding out her companion sitting 
on the other side. The poor girl was in such a dreadful 
state of confusion, that I carefully avoided adding to her 
distress by making any remark. In the meantime it was 
difficult, by the sternest looks I could assume, to prevent 
the whole school from bursting into laughter. The gen- 
tleman sullenly kept his hat down over his brow, and 
even had the temerity to lay his arm on the back of her 
chair, while he talked incessantly in an undertone — she 
making no reply whatever. When he had finished, he 
arose and walked out as abruptly as he had entered. He 
paid dearly for his indiscretion. They were never mar- 
ried, and I feel assured it was partly on this account. A 
delicate, sensitive woman is not apt to forgive one who so 
offends against good taste and propriety as to expose her 
carelessly to the ridicule of others. This man haughtily 
assumed the right to control and direct before he had 
the power; and she had the good sense to anticipate 
tyranny, if not oppression. 

Nothing occurred for some months worth relating. 
My school was full ; I had many interesting pupils from 
the neighboring counties and some from North Carolina. 
Our labors were increased in proportion, yet so low were 
the prices for teaching, that we were not able to do more 
than live comfortably and keep out of debt. We were 
grateful to God that we enjoyed the blessing of being 
together, bound by stronger ties in consequence of the 
necessity of mutually aiding each other. 

One morning in the following Spring I received a 
letter from General Smyth, enclosing a proposition from 
Captain Frank Smith, of Abingdon, offering me a very 



192 Julia A. Tevis. 

advantageous situation in his family as governess to his 
only child, offering a salary equal to the present income 
from the school, stating, at the same time, that a com- 
fortable residence could be procured for my mother and 
her family only half a mile from his house. "Now," 
said General Smyth, "having complied with the request 
of my friend, I can not advise you to go, because I know 
you are doing well here, and may do better. We hope 
to build up an institution in this place through your 
instrumentality, which shall bear your name. Receive, 
therefore, the assurance that I speak the sentiments 
of the community when I say we should prefer your 
remaining; but we feel too deep an interest in your wel- 
fare to assume the responsibility of asking you to decline 
this favorable opportunity of securing a pleasant home, 
with less care for yourself and an ample support for your 
mother and her children." 

I felt exceedingly grateful to Gen. Smyth for this 
kindness; I knew that he was interested in having me 
remain, because his two daughters and granddaughter 
were making rapid progress under my care, and I knew 
too, that he was sincere in all that he had said ; besides, 
I had become very much attached to every one in and 
around Wytheville. It had been a pleasant home to me, 
my toils and cares had been lightened by the smiles of 
affection. Even now, when I think of the wealth of love 
that was bestowed upon me by those persons who had 
scarce known me two years, and the loving kindness of 
some of my pupils, my heart beats faster and my pulse 
quickens with the rush of fond memories. Every hill, 
every stream, and almost every tree had become endeared 
to me by association. My first impulse was to stay. I 
might make new friends, but none that would be dearer. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 193 

At the close of the day I consulted my mother upon the 
subject. She was decidedly opposed to the change. 
"We are comfortable now," said she, "and I am satis- 
fied we can not do better. A rolling stone gathers no 
moss." I retired that night with a fixed determination 
to decline Captain Smith's generous offer; but before the 
close of the next clay, after much deliberation, we came 
to a different conclusion and determined to make our 
arrangements at the close of the session for a permanent 
settlement in Abingdon. This was not done, however, 
without many regrets on my part. 



i94 Julia A. Tevis. 



Chapter XIV. 

My journey from Wythe ville to Abingdon was sad 
enough. I had parted for an indefinite period, 
perhaps forever, from many whose friendship and affec- 
tion would cling to my heart through all my future career, 
and yet, those were with me, to whom I was bound by 
the strongest ties of love, I had the promise of a visit, 
at no distant period, from my beloved Frances, should she 
not be sent away to school. This somewhat relieved my 
overburdened heart, for of all the dear ones I left behind, 
none were so dear, as she. Her remembered acts of kind- 
ness and love forced upon me the conviction, that we 
never value what we possess in the same degree as we 
value what we lose. 

We left Wytheville in the early dawn of a most beau- 
tiful Summer morning. It was a journey of only sixty 
miles to Abingdon, but it would take two days to ac- 
complish it. We wended our way slowly over a broken 
mountain road which had never been graded — a macad- 
amized turnpike was unknown. We traveled in an old- 
fashioned nine seated stage coach, drawn by four horses 
changed at long intervals. We lunched and rested at 
mid-day beneath the spreading trees, whose interwoven 
branches made network of the dark blue light of day. 
Water from a gushing stream, the depth of whose source 
defied the heat of Summer, quenched our thirst, while 
we inhaled the fragrance of rock-hung flowers, the sweet 
brier and the health-inspiring pine. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 195 

On the evening of the second day we reached our 
destination. With that natural repugnance to meeting 
strange faces and mingling with strange people, who 
neither knew nor cared for us, we were not sorry to enter 
the town after the "downy hand of rest" had sealed 
the eyes of most of the inhabitants. Stopping at a tavern 
kept by a Mrs. Soule, we were soon made to feel com- 
fortable and quite at home by this agreeable woman and 
her pleasant family of daughters. Before sleeping a night 
in that house we felt sure of finding the same friendly hos- 
hospitality in Abingdon as in Wytheville. A more intimate 
acquaintance proved the social intercourse to be charming, 

My mother soon procured a dwelling, comfortable and 
sufficiently spacious to admit of one large room being 
fitted up for my sister's prospective day-school. This was 
in a short time filled with young girls, among whom 
were half a dozen music scholars. Mrs. Smith, from the 
"Meadows," the name of Captain Smith's place, came 
as soon as she knew of my arrival to take me to her home. 
This home was but a short walk from my mother's, yet 
I had the convenience of a carriage to go and come as 
I pleased. My kind and excellent patrons manifested so 
much interest in those I loved best in the world, that my 
heart was completely won. My dear mother had a great 
passion for gardening, was particularly fond of the cul- 
tivation of flowers, and had here ample space to indulge 
herself in the sweetness and beauty of the fairy creations 
she cherished. 

I can scarcely find language to convey a correct idea 
of the beautiful surroundings of my new home, "The 
Meadows." I arose early the first morning after my 
arrival to wander about the grounds ; yet not too early to 
find the milkmaids abroad, and other servants engaged in 



196 Julia A. Tevis. 

their proper occupations. The sweetest influences of 
nature shed a peculiar loveliness over this beautiful do- 
main. A profusion of wild flowers sprang up amid the 
grassy meadows; the dew glittered on the lawn, and the 
murmurs of a nameless music made vocal the sweeping 
branches of the grand old trees in the neighboring woods. 
The beauty of the place at this quiet morning hour stole 
like a charm over my senses. I stood by a gushing 
spring whose pellucid waters flowed in a wide stream of 
sufficient depth to reflect the sky in masses of crimson 
shadows, "a liquid mirror, imaging all the woven boughs 
above, and each depending leaf," murmuring gently on- 
ward with its wealth of sunshine to disperse its translu- 
cent waters through the green meadows. I felt actually 
oppressed with delight as I viewed this enchanting scene. 
Every breath I drew was a deep inspiration of rapture. I 
inhaled with it the odor of roses and sweet Summer flow- 
ers, and my heart swelled with gratitude as I exclaimed, 
"The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places." 

I met Mrs. Smith in the door-way as I returned, with 
her little Mary, who had been introduced to me the even- 
ing before, but was too timid to allow me to progress far 
toward acquaintance. Now she welcomed me with a 
pleasant smile, and her large eyes seemed full of emotion, 
as her mother said, "Mary is prepared to love you, and 
I trust she will be a good girl ; but, if she should be 
naughty, do not fail to report it or correct her as you 
think proper." As I afterward found, Mrs. Smith had 
pursued a very judicious course with this child. Being 
an only child, she was surrounded by influences w r ell cal- 
culated to spoil her had it not been for the firm and 
steady hand of her mother, who regarded her as her most 
precious jewel. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 197 

Mary was but nine years old, with a sweet, chubby 
little face and bright, sparkling eyes; truly one of the 
most lovable children I ever knew. 

Captain Smith was a man of prepossessing appearance 
and agreeable manners, an open, good-humored counte- 
nance, with m^rry eyes, full of fun and frolic. He was 
devoted to his wife, and her influence over him was un- 
bounded ; but the silken cords by which she led him were 
not visible to the common eye. He was naturally dis- 
posed to be economical, but she rendered him munifi- 
cent. Their unvarying kindness to numerous friends 
and relatives made their house a Mecca to the hearts of 
all who had once enjoyed its hospitality. Captain Smith 
and his wife contributed much to the happiness of the 
whole community in which they lived. 

A few weeks of experience taught me that my little 
Mary needed the emulation of companionship; for, though 
confined but a few hours during the day to her books 
and music, I found that it required a great effort to keep 
up that interest necessary to rapid improvement. No 
sooner was the suggestion made to her parents than they 
invited three little cousins, near Mary's age, to come and 
enjoy, with her, the benefits of regular instruction. Very 
soon" we had Mary Campbell, Rachel Morgan, and Eliza- 
beth Trigg domiciled in the family, and members of my 
school. I had four scholars, no more ; and the privileges 
the little cousins enjoyed cost them nothing. Captain 
Smith paid me a liberal salary for his own daughter, and 
I did not desire to have it increased. My school-room 
was sufficiently secluded to prevent interruption, and 
many were the peaceful hours I there enjoyed, reading 
some interesting book, while my "little nest of singing 
birds" were preparing their lessons. 



198 Julia A. Tevis. 

From the window of my own cheerful room, where I 
sat after school, I could see the town in the distance, and 
near by was the sunny nook in which was planted the 
flower-garden, whose faint, soul-dissolving odor diffused 
itself through the whole room in Summer. Fairy-like 
were the beautiful shadows that fell from the pensile 
branches of the weeping willows, and changeful the 
golden light that shimmered through the delicate aspen 
leaves. Grapevines flung their leafy garlands from branch 
to branch, and grapes were hanging in green clusters, 
giving promise of an abundant harvest of this luscious 
fruit in due season. Cattle were collected in groups 
under the friendly shade-trees, which dotted the green 
meadow land ; and the white sheep were grazing on the 
distant hills. The green carpeted lawn, gently sloping 
toward the road, was studded with knots of delicate blos- 
soms, minute but beautiful. On the left was an orchard 
of apple and peach trees, whose branches were bending 
to the earth with delicious fruit; on the right the lawn 
with its rich sweep of grass, so vividly green. How 
pleasant to sit here and listen to the ever-moving air as 
it whispered from tree to tree. The balmy breeze, fresh- 
ening as the sun declined, brought the rich perfume of 
pinks, roses and lilies, while the flitting shadows of even- 
ing and the mysterious silence that hovered over all stole 
into the heart with an unseen power, hushed its passionate 
throbbings and gave rise to pure and beautiful thoughts, 
steeping the soul in visions of bliss caught from the quiet 
skies above. 

Who could gaze upon such a scene without looking 
through "nature up to nature's God," and mentally ex- 
claiming, "My Father made them all!" These were 
scenes never to be forgotten. All those influences, so 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 199 

tranquilizing to the heart, so quieting to the temper, 
made me feel sensibly that the providence of God had 
brought me to this lovely place, where I might enjoy a 
home-life calculated to train me for heaven ; for, 

"Hearts grow holier as lliey trace 
The beauty of the world below." 

I received, always, the most respectful attention, not 
only from the family, but from their friends, relations, 
and visitors. Mrs. Smith had the good sense to appre- 
ciate the position of her daughter's teacher, as a model 
from whom she must receive moral and intellectual train- 
ing. My authority was never interfered with, and Mary 
never lost an hour from her school-duties without my 
consent. 

We had frequent conferences in reference to my little 
school. I found in this excellent woman a true and sens- 
ible friend ; I might almost say an elder sister, whose 
companionship was perfectly delightful to me. 

About this time I became acquainted with that excel- 
lent but eccentric old lady, Mrs. Russell, through the 
medium of General Frank Preston's family. Mrs. Rus- 
sell's first husband was Colonel Campbell, the hero of 
"King's Mountain." Mrs. Preston was the only child 
of this marriage, and the heiress to a portion of the Salt 
Works, in Western Virginia, which were for a long time 
the source of immense revenue to the family. Mrs. Smith 
inherited the largest portion from her first husband, Mr. 
William King, whose memory is still cherished through- 
out that country as one of the best and most benevolent 
of men. He came from Ireland a poor boy without a 
penny, one of the many instances of a man rising to 
wealth, honor, and distinction by virtue and industry 
alone. Mr. King was a man of unsullied reputation, and 



200 Julia A. Tevis. 

it might well be said of him, "An honest man's the 
noblest work of God." 

Mrs. Russell was in every way an extraordinary 
woman. The sister of Patrick Henry, she possessed 
some of his characteristics. Her second husband, Gen- 
eral Russell, was quite as distinguished as the first for 
worth and bravery. Both she and General Russell were 
faithful members of the Methodist Church. They were 
converted in the good old-fashioned way, when nobody 
objected to shouting, if it came from an overflowing heart 
filled with the love of God. The old General walked 
worthy of his vocation until he was taken home to a 
better world, leaving his excellent widow a true type of 
Wesleyan Methodism. "Madam Russell," as she was 
generally called, was a "mother in Israel;" and the 
Methodist preachers in those days esteemed her next to 
Bishop Asbury. She lived for a while in Abingdon, but 
as the gay society of that place, particularly among her 
own relatives, was uncongenial to her, she withdrew to a 
retired spot near the "Camp-ground," in the vicinity of 
the sulphur springs. At this place a wooden house had 
been erected under her special superintendence, and ac- 
cording to her own ideas of consistency. Here she lived 
like the good old Moravian, Count Zinzendorf, who wrote 
over the portals of his mansion: 

"As guests, we only here remain, 
And hence the house is slight and plain 
( Therefore turn to the stronghold, ye prisoners of hope) . 
We have a better land above, 
And there we find our warmest love." 

There were two rooms below, large and spacious — the 
one first entered being her common sitting-room. A door 
from this opened into one much larger, which contained 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 201 

a pulpit and seats for a moderate -sized congregation. 
When a preacher visited her she said: "Brother, how 
long will you tarry? There 's the pulpit ; shall I send 
out and call together a congregation?" No visitors came 
to see her, and remained an hour, without being asked to 
pray. If they declined she prayed herself, mentioning 
every person for whom she prayed by name. 

She dressed in the style of '76 — full skirts, with an 
over-garment, long, flowing, open in front, and confined 
at the waist by a girdle, and made of a material called 
Bath coating. In this girdle were tucked two or three 
pocket-handkerchiefs. The sleeves of her dress came just 
below the elbows — the lower part of the arm being cov- 
ered with long, half-handed gloves. She wore a kerchief 
of linen lawn, white as snow, and sometimes an apron of 
the same material; and on her head a very plain cap, above 
which Avas usually placed a broad-brimmed hat given her 
by Bishop Asbury in days long gone by, and worn by 
the old lady with probably the same feeling that Elisha 
wore Elijah's mantle. She was erect as in the meridian of 
life, though she must have been seventy years old when 
I first saw her. A magnificent- looking woman, "she 
walked every inch a queen," reminding me of one of the 
old-fashioned pictures of Vandyke. She never shook the 
hand of a poor Methodist preacher in parting without 
leaving in it a liberal donation ; she knew the Gospel was 
free, but she also knew that "the laborer was worthy of 
his hire." 

The celebrated Wm. C. Preston, of South Carolina, 
her eldest grandson, loved her with a devotion highly 
commendable to himself and agreeable to his grand- 
mother. In his yearly visits to his native home his car- 
riage was found first at the door of her humble dwelling. 



202 Julia A. Tevis. 

He gave evidence on his dying bed that his grandmoth- 
er's religion had been his guiding star, and his love for 
her shone as brightly in the evening as in the morning 
and meridian of his life. I knew Wm. C. Preston well. 
He was distinguished as a man of cultivated intellect, 
sound judgment, and warm affections. As an orator, I 
do not think he ever had his superior in the United 
States, though he sought not the world-wide celebrity he 
might have attained. He was heard to say, while Pres- 
ident of Columbia College, in South Carolina: "I believe 
teaching is my vocation; and I Avould that I had spent 
my whole life in striving, like Socrates, to educate the 
young; for I have proved the difficulty of instructing 
those more advanced in life." 

An anecdote related to me by Mrs. Russell illustrates 
the estimation in which Patrick Henry was held through- 
out his native State. When she first came to South- 
western Virginia she attended a camp-meeting when, her 
relationship to Patrick Henry being whispered about, 
such was the crowd that immediately pressed around her, 
to get a glimpse of one so distinguished, that she was 
only rescued from being crushed by the surrounding mul- 
titude by mounting upon a stump, where she was com- 
pelled to turn round and round, amidst the uproarious 
demonstrations of an enthusiastic people, who cried out, 
"Hurrah for Patrick Henry!" with an occasional shout 
for Colonel Campbell. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 203 



Chapter XV. 

It is the generally received opinion that an only child, 
and particularly an only daughter, must be petted, 
spoiled, and to a certain extent made disagreeable ; if so, 
Mary Smith was an exception to the rule. Her mother's 
judicious treatment effectually prevented that selfishness 
often found among children nursed in the luxurious lap 
of indolence. 

Mrs. Smith was decidedly a religious woman, and 
early impressed upon little Mary's mind that she had a 
Father in heaven, whom she should love and obey; while 
she taught her that there was an evil spirit "going about 
like a roaring lion, seeking whom he might devour." 

Mary was sitting one morning at the breakfast-table 
when only four years old, and Charlotte, her maid, who 
was quite a character, stood at the back of her chair, 
asking what she would have. The child burst into tears, 
and cried bitterly. 

"What's the matter, Mary?' said her mother. 

Almost suffocated with sobs, she replied, "I want 
some batter-cakes." 

"No, no, Mary," said Mrs. Smith; "think again. 
You know you can have batter-cakes; Charlotte will help 
you " — which was no sooner said than done. 

Mary continued to cry bitterly. 

"Look at me, Mary; wipe your eyes, and tell me 
the truth." 



204 Julia A. Tevis. 

The child obeyed, and said, timidly: "Mother, I 
wanted cheese; but the devil whispered to me, and said, 
'Ask for batter-cakes.' " 

After breakfast Mary went with her mother to a re- 
tired place, where much conversation ensued, the result 
of which may be imagined. 

Mary was taught to do every thing for herself that 
she could — to dress and undress herself, even when she 
was a tiny child, while Charlotte watched the process. 
If at any time she needed a whipping her mother gave it 
to her conscientiously, and spared her not for her pitiful 
cries of, "O mother, will you whip your only child, your 
only daughter!" 

Thus did this excellent mother go on sowing the good 
seed, the fruits of which she was blessed in realizing, and 
doubtless carried the memory with her to a better world. 

I have said that Mary was but nine years old when 
placed under my care; yet she was better instructed than 
children of her age generally, and though a playful child, 
of exuberant spirits, she was thoughtful, sensitive, and 
rather mature for her age. Her father allowed her at that 
time a monthly stipend, to use as she pleased, and I do 
not remember a single instance of her spending one dime 
merely for a selfish gratification, though I have many 
reminiscences of her benevolent tendencies. 

She was sitting, one evening, sadly resting her head 
upon her hand, apparently in deep thought. It was about 
the middle of a very cold month; her mother was sew- 
ing — I was reading. Captain Smith entered, and Mary 
sprang to her feet. 

"O father," said she, "my monthly allowance is all 
gone, and Charlotte says there is a poor woman with 
little ragged babies, living about a mile from here, who 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 205 

has no warm blankets to cover them, no warm shoes and 
stockings to run in the snow." 

"What will be done, Mary?" said her father. " I do 
not like to advance money to a little girl who gets rid of 
it so rapidly." 

"Father, lend me five dollars, and I will try not to 
want any more next month. Charlotte says I can get a 
pair of warm blankets for that." 

The money was given ; she went with her charitable 
Methodist maid, bought the blankets herself, appropri- 
ated them, and the happy little girl kept her word, ask- 
ing for no money the next month. The woman to whom 
Mary gave the blankets came frequently the next Sum- 
mer to bring marketing, which Mrs. Smith always bought, 
though their extensive farm supplied them with every 
thing they wanted. 

Captain Smith, though a lawyer by profession, was a 
practical farmer. Thriving orchards, rich pastures, fertile 
meadows, and productive grounds, attested the constant 
supervision of the master, as well as the industry of those 
under his authority. All around bespoke thrift and com- 
fort — every thing was well-conditioned, even to the lowest 
menial on the place. Mrs. Smith, though in feeble health, 
and accustomed to all the luxuries that wealth could pro- 
cure, did not make these an excuse for indolence or self- 
indulgence. She looked well to the ways of her own house- 
hold, giving to each a portion in due season; and, with a 
heart open as "melting day" to the sweet influences 
of charity, she stretched out her hands to the needy. 
Truly "the crown of the wise is their riches." 

The poor woman alluded to was a humble Christian, 
of well-known piety, contented and industrious, with a 
large family, which she found it difficult to support; but 

14 



206 Julia A. Tevis. 

her faith grew stronger as poverty grew sterner. Upon 
one occasion, after Mrs. Smith had paid her, she stopped 
on the front steps, put down her basket, and, looking up 
at the lordly mansion, exclaimed, "Well, I would like to 
go all through this house once." "You shall do so," 
said Captain Smith, who was present. "Come, I will go 
with you." She followed him, stepping, as daintily as 
she could, over the well- waxed passage, and up the grand 
stair-way, entered into every apartment, and, after giving 
each a hasty glance, returned and said, as she took up 
her empty basket, "This is a beautiful house, Captain 
Smith ; such a one as I never saw before and never care 
to see again; but I would not have it if you would give 
it to me, even if it were filled with gold, for I should lose 
my own soul by forgetting God in the splendor that sur- 
rounded me. I would rather sing, ' No foot of land do 
I possess,' and feel, in truth, I am -a pilgrim in the wil- 
derness of this world, with the hope of heaven in my 
heart. My Bible tells me that the road to eternal happi- 
ness is not paved with gold." It was a little sermon, not 
intended as such, however, but it reached the heart of the 
proud man who thought but little of his soul's welfare, 
and left, for a few moments, a shadow upon his brow. 

The even tenor of my life during the first year of my 
residence at "The Meadows" leaves the memory of but 
few things worth relating. My dear mother and her little 
family were comfortable ; my sister's school was profitable 
and pleasant. I visited them regularly once a week, 
sometimes oftener, and I remember no pleasure more 
exquisite, during my whole life, than that I experienced 
at the end of each quarter, as I placed my little linen 
bag of silver dollars in my mother's lap, and heard, from 
her own precious lips, expressions of maternal love and 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 207 

tenderness. I can almost feel now her hand upon my 
head as I knelt at her feet with beating heart and throb- 
bing brow, and I thought then, as I do now, what an 
inestimable privilege to be enabled, even in part, to pay 
back the immense debt of gratitude one owes to a parent, 
and especially to a mother. The wealth of maternal love, 
who can estimate ? 

Just here it is quite proper for me to say to the rising 
generation of girls who never "have time" to accomplish 
any thing, as they affirm, striving with things impossible, 
and seeing nothing but the receding wings of flying op- 
portunities, that, at this time, I not only attended to my 
regular duties as a teacher, but continued to make the 
dresses of my mother and sisters as well as my own. To 
be sure, new dresses came few and far between, and it 
was easier to sew up three widths than nine or ten. I 
have often cut out a dress at early dawn and worn it at 
the tea-table, aided by no sewing machines or other 
fingers than my own. 

I saw a great deal of company necessarily, and though 
I never suffered my school-hours to be interrupted, yet 
my toilet was always made in such a manner as to be 
prepared to meet incidental guests in this hospitable 
mansion daily, and I am sure that my whole wardrobe 
did not cost me more than twenty dollars a year at that 
time. Mrs. Smith always dressed elegantly; never con- 
spicuously or expensively. This gave her the opportunity 
of showing kindness to others, and I was not forgotten 
among the many recipients of her generous favors. A 
handsome dress occasionally, a pair of gloves or some 
muslin for collarettes, filled up beautifully the deficien- 
cies in my scanty wardrobe, and rendered me presentable 
at all the dinner-parties. These occurred very often at 



208 Julia A. Tevis. 

"The Meadows," but at country hours, so that all the 
guests might depart in peace before dark; and as they 
seldom gave evening parties in this wisely -governed 
house, our nights were 

"As tranquil and still 
As the mist slumbering on the hill." 

One dining now looms up before me. My little girls 
were taking dancing lessons from a queer little man by 
the name of Fry, whose school they attended every Sat- 
urday. This "maitre de dance," though he could teach 
the five positions and cut the "pigeon-wing" to perfec- 
tion, was, by no means, fitted to impart grace of motion, 
ease and elegance of manners to his pupils; nevertheless 
he tried, and was particularly unsuccessful in teaching 
them to courtesy a la mode. At this dinner party, which 
consisted of the elite of the neighborhood, among whom 
were the Prestons, Johnsons, etc., critics in style and 
etiquette, Mrs. Smith and I were particularly anxious 
that the girls should appear well when introduced into 
the drawing-room before dinner. They Avere directed, 
therefore, to make their best courtesies on entering. 
Elizabeth Trigg, the youngest, and least likely to be 
abashed, came first; the others following in regular rou- 
tine. She rested on her left foot, poised her right toe in 
front for an instant, and then wheeling half-round, pre- 
senting her back to the company, courtesied so low as 
almost to lose her equilibrium. Poor little Mary Camp- 
bell followed in quick succession without raising her eyes 
from the floor, her sweet little person reminding me of a 
dove unfurling its silver wings for flight. Then came 
Rachel Morgan, but before her evolutions were quite 
finished, and just as Mary was advancing Captain Smith 
exclaimed, to the extreme mortification of the girl, "Fry, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 209 

Fry, Fry, hold on; no more of it." My confusion was 
so great that it almost blinded me, while my poor little 
pupils tucked themselves as much out of sight as pos- 
sible. We were all soon relieved, however, by the genial, 
laughter-loving General Preston, who walked up and 
brought the little girls out of their hiding places, com- 
mending them for trying to imitate so practically their 
dancing-master, whose business it was to teach them to 
make their manners. 

One might suppose that it would be exceedingly diffi- 
cult to give sufficient variety to the studies and pursuits 
of only four children without sometimes producing weari- 
ness and disgusting them with the school-room, but their 
exercises were rendered sufficiently interesting and agree- 
able by much oral instruction. They had text-books, of 
course, but were never required to commit to memory 
any thing that was not first thoroughly understood, and 
many were the fragrant flowers of affection culled during 
those school-hours. 

We had daily exercises in music, French, and draw- 
ing, but experience had taught me that the elementary 
branches of spelling, reading, and arithmetic should be 
thoroughly learned at an early age, for these are the arts 
by which the sciences are to be acquired. We can no 
more expect a thorough education without them than we 
can hope to erect a palace without a foundation. Our 
language deserves the highest degree of attention ; and to 
expect children to become acquainted with the principles 
simply by hearing others talk, is ridiculous and absurd. 
A child may learn to spell correctly before its powers of 
thought are well developed. In spelling, children should 
be made to enunciate and pronounce each syllable dis- 
tinctly; and spelling-books and dictionaries will not com- 



210 Julia A. Tevis. 

plete the course. Words, sentences, and even whole 
pages should be dictated to them ; the words spelled in- 
correctly, underlined by the teacher, and the pupil made 
to correct them. 

I once had a pupil nineteen years old who had taught 
two years before being placed under my instruction. She 
read well and talked well, and had much general informa- 
tion, and yet could not write two lines without spelling 
incorrectly. It took her three hours to write a letter of 
three pages, with the dictionary before her, to which she 
constantly referred; and, after all that, the letter could 
not pass the ordeal of a single glance from a practiced 
eye without the detection of many egregious mistakes. 
This was the result of her having learned to read before 
she could spell. 

I formed, about this time, an intimate friendship with 
Mrs. Henderson, a widowed niece of Mrs. Smith's first 
husband, one of the most genial, pleasant women I ever 
knew. She possessed that charming candor so fascinating 
when connected with elegant manners and defined taste; 
and though in the meridian of life, and twice a widow, 
she had not lost her sympathy with the young. Ex- 
treme goodness of heart, united to a glowing imagination, 
brought a large circle of friends and acquaintances under 
her mystic influence. My heart was completely Avon by 
the pleasure she seemed to take in my society. I often 
visited her home in Abingdon, then the centre of attrac- 
tion for nearly all the agreeable young people in the vil- 
lage. Her family consisted of herself and two young 
cousins, John and Rachel Mitchell. Mrs. Henderson had 
four sons at school, but they seldom came home for any 
length of time. Her pleasant little parlor was the favored 
spot of many joyous reunions. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 211 

Rachel Mitchell, scarce seventeen years of age, was a 
rare example of genuine enthusiasm in every thing good; 
but this enthusiasm was under the control of sound judg- 
ment and discretion. Her face was peculiarly expressive 
of cheerfulness and benevolence; calm, modest, so full of 
sweetness, and, above all, of ingenuousness and truth, 
that, upon the first look, you felt that you could take 
that countenance on trust, there were no misgivings 
about it. Her brother John was a merry, laughter-loving 
soul, who sought to render others as cheerful and joyous 
as himself. 

The social whist-table was frequently introduced ; for 
whist, nothing more, was as common an amusement then, 
in the first circles, as dancing. Card-playing was in- 
dulged in to a great extent, even by Church members. 
I recollect the trouble the Rev. Mr. Hawley had in 
Washington, when striving to banish this evil from among 
his communicants. One lady, a leader of the ton, was 
willing to give up public assemblies, decline attending the 
theater, but cards she could not forego. "No," said she, 
"I would rather be excluded from the communion-table. 
I do believe, if I were dying, the shuffling of a pack of 
cards would revive me." 

I would not have my readers understand that I look 
back upon these things with approbation ; I only wish to 
show the state of society at that time. The morally re- 
fined, who would have shuddered with horror at the bare 
idea of a coarse expression or the introduction of any 
thing low and common into their charmed circle, would 
wear away the hours of the night, even until three in the 
morning, playing whist with a few select friends. I think 
now, with the deepest mortification of my frequent partici- 
pation in this evil; and yet, I thought I was a Christian. 



212 Julia A. Tevis. 

Alas! how difficult it is to know one's self. I never 
neglected duty at any time for pleasure or recreation, and 
this was a salve to my conscience. Having fulfilled the 
labors of the day, I felt at perfect liberty to waste pre- 
cious hours in this sinful amusement at night. We never 
played for money; but how great a delusion to suppose 
that any thing upon which we dare not ask the blessing 
of God is innocent. No one that has ever indulged in 
this evil practice, but knows how fascinating it becomes; 
and dancing, except for young children, and in the open 
air on the green, is not less dangerous and delusive. 
The votaries of the ball-room become so passionately fond 
of it as to make it almost the business of life. I thank 
my Heavenly Father that I never did become so much 
infatuated with either as to forget the responsibility I was 
under to others; nor do I ever remember retiring to rest, 
no matter how late, or how much fatigued, without offer- 
ing up an earnest prayer for God's blessing and forgive- 
ness. I read the Scriptures with interest, and prayed 
fervently to be enlightened on divine subjects. 

I never saw a card-table nor attended a dancing party 
in Captain Smith's house. Mrs. Smith was not a member 
of any Church when I first knew her. She preferred the 
Methodist Church to any other; but, as this denomina- 
tion had no house of worship, and the society was "little 
and unknown," she united with the Presbyterians — the 
only denomination that had a church and pastor. 

The Rev. Mr. Bovell was a pious and excellent man, 
but by no means a popular preacher. His utterance was 
slow and indistinct, and many of his congregation not 
decidedly pious felt so much the drowsy influence of 
his monotonous voice, as to make it an excuse for staying 
at home on the Sabbath. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 213 

During a protracted meeting held in this church I be- 
came acquainted with the Rev. Mr. Gallagher, from Ten- 
nessee, and a Mr. Glenn, a preacher from the same 
neighborhood. Mr. Gallagher was a perfect Boanerges; 
no one could go to sleep under his preaching. He was 
one of the most eloquent pulpit orators of that day, and 
as remarkable for his indolent habits out of the pulpit as 
for his energy in it. He said he preferred riding on 
horseback to walking, but a coach to either; but it was 
far the most agreeable to sit quietly in his arm-chair, sur- 
rounded by his books and papers. 

Mr. Gallagher possessed fine literary taste and a highly 
cultivated mind. I respected and admired him, not only 
because of his exalted Christian character, bnt because he 
loved and spoke so kindly of my oldest brother Quinn, 
who had once been his pupil. No one ever accused him 
of neglecting his high and holy calling as a minister 
of the Gospel, but he was proverbially improvident in 
worldly affairs. He received from his parishioners, who 
almost idolized him, an ample salary, but somehow he 
always got through it before the end of the year. 
Upon one occasion he invited a friend home to dine 
with him, without consulting his wife, who whispered 
to him after the cloth was laid, "We've nothing but 
potatoes for dinner." "Bring them in," said he, cheer- 
fully; and soon the table, covered with a snowy cloth, 
was garnished- with a large dish of smoking Irish 
potatoes, and the usual condiments — salt and butter. 
"Come along, Glenn," said Mr. Gallagher, "come and 
eat, 'tis as good as we deserve — better than our Lord 
and Master had." I will not vouch for the authenticity 
of this, but knowing his character so well, it certainly 
bears the impress of probability. 



'i4 Julia A. Tevis. 



Chapter XVI. 

How we love to linger over the most trivial records 
of the heart. The recollection of every thing con- 
nected with my stay at "The Meadows," and the pleas- 
ant associations there formed, quicken even now my 
pulsations, and bring the light of other days to my faded 
eyes. How beautiful does this brief episode appear! 

My pupils improved satisfactorily, and my patrons were 
well pleased. We had an examination, at the close of the 
year, in our own little school-room. A very select 
audience, composed of the home family and a few invited 
friends, manifested the deepest interest in all that was 
going on. 'Twas recherche in the highest degree. We 
had a French dialogue, in which the four little girls chat- 
tered and gesticulated so charmingly a la Francaise, that 
General Preston insisted he understood it quite as well as 
if it had been English. They were complimented upon 
their graceful manners, having entirely given up their 
courtesies a la Fry. They passed a good examination 
upon the elementary branches; their drawings were pro- 
nounced neat and pretty, their music agreeable; and 
they were flattered and praised until every thing to them 
was couleur de rose for that day. 

And now came an interval of entire relaxation during: 
the hot weeks of July. About this time I # discovered 
that, though not nearsighted, I could not see things dis- 
tinctly at a great distance. It may seem strange that I 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 215 

had not known it before; it was simply because I was 
not obliged to hold my book close to my eyes like a very 
nearsighted person. My strong gray eyes could not 
absorb the usual amount of light without pain, and I 
could see better in the morning and evening twilight 
than at noon. 

Late in the afternoon of a July day I was walking 
with some friends through a lovely green meadow. Sud- 
denly we were all startled by an exclamation, calling our 
attention to some object in the deep blue heavens above, 
which all pronounced to be a kite sailing majestically 
through the atmosphere; sometimes a mere speck, and 
then floating nearer to view sporting, as it seemed, with 
the light clouds, its long and graceful tail resembling that 
of a comet. I listened to their remarks, and vainly 
looked in the direction to which they all pointed; nought 
could I discover but the piled-up clouds, bannered in the 
golden rays of the setting sun. 

"Don't you see it now?" said Captain Smith, after a 
long explanation; "it is the largest and most beautiful 
kite I ever saw, and floats so majestically. Look, look!" 

"I can not see it," said I, sorrowfully. 

"You can, if you will; it is downright affectation. 
Why do you squint so? You keep your eyes half shut; 
no wonder you can't see." 

"The light hurts them," I replied; "I have not the 
eyes of an eagle." 

"Well, they look as strong and as gray as an eagle's, 
anyhow." 

I felt somewhat troubled at first by the discovery 
that beautiful visions in the distance were not for me; 
but I was gratified to know that, blessed with the power 
of seeing clearly what was going on around me, I should 



216 Julia A. Tevis. 

not, while star gazing, stumble over gems and pearls that 
might be strewn in my pathway. 

I found, at last, that I could not distinguish a man 
from a donkey, at a distance at which others could recog- 
nize an acquaintance; could not read the signs across the 
street, and often made laughable blunders by mistaking 
one person for another. Yet, I thought I did not need 
spectacles, and was not pedantic enough to don them as 
a coat of arms. I never wore them until many years 
afterward, when I found myself putting my hand into 
a plate of butter for a plate of cheese. I am now an 
old woman, and put aside my spectacles when I wish to 
read or write, and can do the finest needlework without 
them — have never changed the number of the glasses I 
wore forty years ago. I might not have found it neces- 
sary to wear glasses had not my vocation as a teacher 
required a minute examination into the far-off corners of 
a large school-room, that I might ascertain what the girls 
were doing so diligently when they were doing nothing. 

Days and weeks passed swiftly by. August, 1822, 
came, and my young friend, Rachel Mitchell, was to be 
married to Mr. Litchfield, a resident of Abingdon. 
Rachel was but eighteen, yet she had not taken this 
matter in hand unadvisedly; it was the result of time, 
reflection, and the approbation of her friends. Happy 
as a Spring bird, surrounded by an atmosphere of pure 
affection, she naturally felt timid about changing her rela- 
tions in life. I loved her devotedly, and was pleased 
and satisfied with her choice. 

Mr. Litchfield was dignified, and possessed as much 
ease of manner as a sensible man need have or a rational 
woman desire. The heart generally chooses wisely when 
left to follow its natural impulses; and that it was so in 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 217 

this case, has been proved by a long life of wedded hap- 
piness. I was bridesmaid, and watched with interest the 
timid, but perfect confidence manifested by my young 
friend in the object of her choice. I could but note the 
sober change of manner which told how she dreaded to 
step from young and irresponsible girlhood into a posi- 
tion new and untried. A serious thoughtfulness, a sub- 
dued tone of voice, marked the coming matron ; yet 
there was no doubt, no mistrust as to the future. A 
select company of friends was present to witness the cere- 
mony. The bride, to my eye, was the very ideal of 
innocence and loveliness; the bridegroom, a model of dig- 
nified manhood, whom it seemed natural to respect, 
esteem, and love. More than forty years have since 
elapsed — noble sons and lovely daughters have grown 
up, like olive plants, around their table, and I have had 
the pleasure of educating two of her daughters, whose 
useful lives will prove a crown of rejoicing in eternity. 
Two of her brother's daughters have also been sent 
from Abingdon to the far West to be educated under 
my care. 

Not many months passed after Rachel's marriage and 
removal to her own home, when Mrs. Henderson began 
to feel that it was not "good to be alone," and decided 
to accept the offered hand of Mr. Branch, a gentleman 
who, though her junior in years, was not younger in 
heart and feeling. Mrs. Henderson was in the full fresh- 
ness of blooming womanhood when she took unto her- 
self a third husband. I was a second time selected as 
bridesmaid in that family. The marriage was to be 
strictly private, and, for once, Madam Rumor failed to 
get an inkling of the approaching wedding. 

The day before the morning upon which the marriage 



218 Julia A. Tevis. 

was to take place, one of Mrs. Smith's grand dinner- 
parties came off, at which Mrs. Henderson declined ap- 
pearing, though Mrs. Smith seemed scarcely willing or 
able to do without her. She finally consented to come, 
provided Captain Smith would make no allusion to her 
intended marriage. He faithfully promised every thing 
required of him. The company assembled; Mrs. Hen- 
derson was, as usual, the life of the party — gay, witty, 
and good-humored. The brilliancy of her conversation 
attracted more than usual attention; yet I could see an 
occasional shadow flit across her face as she cast furtively 
toward Captain Smith a deprecating and uneasy glance 
when she caught his eye. Dinner was nearly over; the 
dessert and wines were on the table, when Ave were all 
electrified by Captain Smith's calling out to Mrs. Hen- 
derson: "Well, Rachel, do you intend to surprise your 
friends by changing your name to-morrow morning ? Do 
you all know that she is to be married?" 

"Why, Captain Smith, how can you?" 

Her blushing face and almost audibly beating heart 
would have betrayed her had not the attention of every 
one been attracted by the Captain's merry laugh, and 
the blank expression of Mrs. Smith's face. 

"There, now, I told you nobody would believe it, — 
neither do I." 

Mrs. Henderson was relieved, and joined in the gen- 
eral laugh. Every body looked upon it as a ruse of Cap- 
tain Smith to produce a little excitement and resuscitate 
the flagging conversation ; and there was as much aston- 
ishment the next morning, at the announcement of the 
marriage of Mr. Branch to Mrs. Henderson, as if it had 
never been mentioned. 

How strangely some apparently unimportant incidents 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 219 

fix themselves upon the mind and heart, — intended, it 
sometimes seems, to foreshadow coming events! The 
first time I ever heard the hymn, "He dies, the friend 
of sinners dies," was during a little excursion with Mr. 
and Mrs. Branch, immediately after their marriage. Mr. 
Branch was on his way to Richmond, and parted with us 
at a retired country place. We were sitting just where 
he left us, in a little vine-covered porch. Her heart was 
doubtless sad, and mine sympathetic, when she com- 
menced singing that sweet hymn, and her charming voice 
sounded like the music of heaven lingering on the ear; 
and as she uttered, "Lo! Salem's daughters weep 
around," I could not restrain my tears. Visions of the 
blessed Savior, who had suffered so much for me, and 
whose burden of grief had weighed so little on my ungrate- 
ful heart, rose up before me in condemnation, and I felt 
like Jacob when he vowed a vow, saying, "If God will 
be with me, and keep me in the way that I go, then 
shall the Lord be my God." I had thought all along 
that I was striving to be a Christian; but I felt now an 
aching void, which could not be filled without a deeper 
knowledge of divine things — a something I had not 
yet known. 

Soon after this I was invited to act as bridesmaid for 
Mrs. Nancy Trigg, a widowed sister-in-law of Mrs. Smith, 
whom I had learned to love and appreciate during my 
residence in Wytheville. The wedding was to take place 
during the Christmas holidays, and was to be followed by 
grand festivities, in which, according to the fashion of the 
day, dancing was to be the chief feature. I found that 
the gayeties in which I should be involved would dissi- 
pate my serious feelings. I hesitated, tried to beg off; 
pleaded Mrs. Smith's anxiety to have me remain and 



220 Julia A. Tevis. 

attend the quarterly-meeting, and her desire that I should 
become acquainted with some pious friends who were to 
be her guests. My mother, though she did not posi- 
tively object, looked sad at the idea of my being exposed 
at this inclement season. She also wished me to attend 
the meeting in prospect; yet with her ever quiet and 
self-denying manner, indulgently said, "Go, if you think 
best." It was the first time w r e had been parted since 
our reunion in Wythe. I afterward realized that it was 
not best to choose pleasure instead of duty. Strange 
that the visible but transient things of time should have 
more influence over the human heart than the unseen but 
eternal realities of a future world ! 

We started for Wythe long before daylight. It was 
clear and cold, and the moonlight lay like a blessing upon 
the sleeping inhabitants, of whom I would gladly have 
been one; for I was not quite satisfied with the choice I 
had made. The wind whistled mournfully through the 
ice-clad branches of the trees, which stood like grim sen- 
tinels on the outskirts of the town. With these dreary 
surroundings, we had the prospect of a two days' journey 
over the roughest of roads ; but we were made of sterner 
stuff than to dread cold or personal inconvenience. My 
own courage was strengthened by the desire of looking 
once more upon the faces of familiar friends. We trav- 
eled all day, through a violent snow-storm, over frozen 
ground and ice-bound torrents, stopping only twice to 
change horses, ere we reached the old stone tavern where 
we were to tarry for the night. It was near ten o'clock, 
the family were all in bed; one little tallow candle burned 
in the window, casting a feeble light upon the pathway 
that led to the door standing wide open for the expected 
stage passengers. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 221 

The cheerlessness of the room we entered was made 
visible by the flickering rays of a few expiring embers. 
In the middle of the apartment was a square table, upon 
which was heaped in pewter dishes, cold beef, fat pork, 
cabbage, potatoes, with a large dish of cucumber pickles. 
A brown jug of milk and a show of tea-cups and saucers 
intimated arrangements for tea or coffee. My head ached 
so violently that I turned from the supper-table with dis- 
gust, and stepped into an adjoining room in search of 
fire and some place upon which to rest my weary limbs. 
I threw myself upon what I supposed to be an empty 
bed, and in so doing awakened squalling children. Rising 
hastily, and turning toward another, I saw the vision of 
a red flannel night -cap popping from under the bed- 
clothes, which so frightened me that I flew to the other 
side of the room, and sunk despairingly into an old arm- 
chair, where I remained until my companions had supped, 
after which we were shown up -stairs into a cold room. 
The feather-bed, which I immediately appropriated, was 
made up like a grave, and surmounted by two little pil- 
lows, either of which I might have put into my pocket, 
and both of which I lost somewhere in the recesses of 
the bed during the night. 

My companions were soon asleep ; but I suffered too 
intensely to lose consciousness until about an hour before 
we were called up to resume our journey, my mind 
actively engaged all the while in repentant thoughts and 
ardent wishes that I had not thus tempted danger; cold 
and sickness rendered me any thing but a pleasant com- 
pagnon de voyage. The second day was as uncomfortable 
as the first. My languor and headache continued until 
we reached our destination, where we were ushered into 
the warm and cozy parlor of Mrs. Trigg. There we 

15 



222 Julia A. Tevis. 

found bright faces awaiting us, and were received with 
overflowing joy and cordial greetings. 

Mrs. Smythe was there, and claimed me for her guest, 
saying, "This is kind in you to come so great a distance 
to see your old friends. You must stay with me ; for I 
have much to ask and to tell, which can not all be 
thought of at once." A night of sound sleep in my old 
room made me quite myself again ; and, rising early, I 
took my station at the window, to look out upon old 
familiar objects. The snow-storm was over, and left no 
trace in the calm, blue sky; but the snow lay like a white 
robe of unsullied purity upon the roof-tops, and almost 
untrodden upon the streets. The wintery clouds were 
alternately gathering and breaking as they whirled around 
the "keen, sky -cleaving mountain," whose icy spires of 
sun-like radiance announced the corning day. 

Whoever has not seen Winter in its reposing beauty 
among the mountains of this country knows nothing of 
its pictorial wealth, — silent images of eternity, awfully 
magnificent, yet thrillingly beautiful, — 

" Palaces where Nature thrones 
Sublimity in icy halls." 

I watched the rising sun as it turned the snow and 
sleet into myriads of sparkling gems, and the ice-clad 
trees whose nodding tops were thickly hung with dia- 
monds, and, 

"Nature breathed from every part 
The rapture of her mighty heart." 

My soul was filled with emotions of gratitude to God, 
who had made this world so beautiful in all its changing 
seasons. An involuntary prayer of thanksgiving arose 
from my lips to the great Giver of all good. How natu- 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 223 

ral the tendency to adore him in all that is good and 
beautiful. 

The forenoon was agreeably occupied. Friends were 
to be met from every direction. My old pupils clustered 
so fondly around me that I felt quite at home. No birds 
singing in the sunshine ever made sweeter music to my 
heart than their young voices; and, though they all talked 
at once, there was perfect harmony. A thousand things 
were to be said of what had taken place since we parted ; 
many plans were proposed and amusements projected be- 
fore they could think of letting me go back to Abingdon. 

The afternoon was spent in preparing for the wedding 
party that night. The eventful hour arrived. All the 
young men of the village, a crowd of fair girls, blushing 
at the thought of their own loveliness, and a goodly num- 
ber of blooming matrons, accompanied by their self- 
satisfied spouses, circled through the brilliantly lighted 
apartments. Amid the crowd none looked more attract- 
ive than the bride, none happier than the bridegroom. 
An expression of generous feeling and open sincerity in 
his countenance invited confidence and respect. Her 
gentle, down-cast eyes and fresh complexion made her 
look quite youthful as, receiving the congratulations of 
friends, she "blushed in crimson touched with pale." 
No one could have regarded the scene without a pervad- 
ing sentiment of pleasure at thus witnessing the perfection 
of social happiness combined with the prospect of domes- 
tic felicity in store for the newly-married pair. 

The ceremony being over, dancing commenced imme- 
diately, and was kept up till beyond the midnight hour. 
I was a mere looker-on ; for, though I had been passion- 
ately fond of dancing, my heart was not in it now. The 
room, as if some fairy palace lighted up, the gay com- 



224 Julia A. Tevis. 

pany and splendid supper, all failed to interest me. My 
thoughts reverted to the last time I had danced in this 
very room. Eighteen months had elapsed and I was here 
again, but with what different feelings. I shuddered at 
the bare idea of ever again participating in an amusement 
so light and trifling. I had withdrawn to rather an ob- 
scure corner, with some married ladies, when a gentleman 
acquaintance, on the wrong side of forty, with whom I 
had often danced, came and asked my hand for the next 
cotillion. I declined. 

"What," said he, with surprise, "have you given up 
dancing? I have not seen you on the floor this evening." 

"Yes," I replied, "I never expect to dance again." 

"Nor will I, for to-night," he said, "if I may be 
allowed to join this company." 

After conversing with us for a while, he suddenly 
turned around and looked upon the gay and giddy throng 
passing and repassing. 

"How supremely ridiculous," he exclaimed, "those 
men and women appear. I never saw it in this light 
before. I shall follow your example, my friend." 

A few intervening days and I was on my way back to 
Abingdon. Having left all my gay companions behind, 
and there being no one in the stage-coach whom I knew, 
I had full time for reflection. Painful sensations oppressed 
me. How my hopes and plans and wishes had altered 
since I first went to reside in Wythe. I had left behind 
me that delightful period of youth when hope walks by 
our side, and with her delicate pencil touches every thing 
with the hues of heaven. With me this period had been 
an unusually bright one. It was now like a dream that 
I had ever looked forward to substantial happiness in this 
world, where, as Petrarch says, "Nothing lasts but tears." 



Sixty Yeaes in a School-room. 225 

I began to realize the fact that "he builds too low who 
builds beneath the skies." 

My nature was essentially unfitted for fashionable soci- 
ety. I went into it because it was easier to go than to 
refuse the kindness that forced on me those uncongenial 
amusements. I had often prayed to be saved from temp- 
tation without, perhaps, forming any resolution to resist 
it. From early childhood I had desired to be a Christian. 
Could I expect that God would do all this for me when 
I had never even formed a determination to resist evil? 
Did I really desire to serve God? To serve God, what a 
thought! Now, for the first time, I realized its import. 
If I do serve God I can not serve the world. What is it 
to serve the world, and what will be its reward? Is it to 
follow its fashions, to love its spirit of levity and vanity, 
to seek its pleasures, and forgetting God, be the ungrate- 
ful recipient of all his mercies? The reward will only be 
"the pleasures of sin for a season," and then the future, 
the dark, unending future. 



226 Julia A. Tevis. 



Chapter XVII. 

I reached my mother's home late at night; a shadow 
had fallen upon that hearthstone during my absence. 
The dear sister, who had been my companion from child- 
hood, had been ill, and was still so great a sufferer that 
we feared her health Avas permanently impaired. This 
had prevented their enjoying the Christmas holidays and 
increased my regret at being absent. 

Mrs. Smith had much to tell me about the quarterly 
meeting, and the interesting religious persons with whom 
she had become acquainted. The presiding elder had 
tarried with them during the meeting. 

"I wished for you often," said she, "and I am not 
sorry to hear that you had a rough journey, and that 
you suffered inconvenience from your trip." 

"This will teach you," she added, pleasantly, "to 
obey God rather than man." 

All things conspired to deepen conviction in my natur- 
ally susceptible heart and to increase thoughtfulness. The 
subject of my soul's eternal interest was constantly before 
me, and I can never be sufficiently thankful to my Heav- 
enly Father that the circumstances by which I was then 
surrounded were favorable to the growth of piety. In- 
clined to be romantic, had I not been compelled to steady 
exertion, my love of novelty might have fascinated and 
drawn me from the line of duty. I have thanked God 
a thousand times that I was not permitted to choose my 
own way, and that I was compelled to lead an active life. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 227 

I have never seen the time when I had "nothing to do." 
Had it been otherwise, I might now be compelled to look 
back upon the wreck of former years, affections wasted, 
pleasures fled, and hopes numbered with the dead. 

My sister gave up her school on account of her feeble 
health, and spent much time with me at "The Meadows." 
The kindness of Mrs. Smith, at this time, increased my 
affection for her tenfold. I never think of the virtues of 
this excellent woman without a swelling heart and tearful 
eyes. The very atmosphere around her breathed peace 
and tenderness. Summer days pass, earth's blossoms 
fade, but love, founded on esteem and gratitude, can 
never die. 

The first Methodist church in Abingdon was erected 
in the Spring of 1823, a comfortable frame building, spa- 
cious enough, as it then appeared, but which seemed 
shrunken almost to insignificance when I saw it after an 
absence of more than twenty years. Previously to my at- 
tending the meetings in Abingdon, I had not been inside 
a Methodist church more than two or three times in my 
life. Divine service was regularly held here by the trav- 
eling preachers of the circuit, the society not being rich 
enough to support a stationed preacher. The member- 
ship increased rapidly. Prayer-meetings, class-meetings, 
and band-meetings were formed and regularly kept up. 
These Mrs. Smith and I frequently attended, though she 
was a Presbyterian. 

By special invitation the traveling Methodist pVeachers 
often spent their "rest-days" at "The Meadows;" a rest 
indeed. One of the younger preachers, a modest and 
very pious man, well known for his faithful devotion to 
the cause of Christ, was urged to come and spend a few 
days in the "prophet's room." He declined the invita- 



228 Julia A. Tevis. 

tion, because of his threadbare clothes. The knees of 
his pantaloons bore evident marks of frequent prostra- 
tions before the throne of grace. His humility and 
diffidence were touching and beautiful — "he should like 
to go, but could not ; no, he would tarry with an humble 
brother by the wayside." This humble brother, Wini- 
fred, was as famous for his hospitality and his love of the 
Christian Church, particularly the Methodist, as were the 
primitive disciples. A complete new suit soon found its 
way privately into the young brother's saddle-bags; he 
came, and mutual pleasure was felt. No wonder that the 
blessing of God rested upon such a household ! 

We were sitting one evening conversing upon the 
subject of the great revival that had occurred in the 
Methodist Church during the last two years, and the 
changed aspect of things, when Mrs. Smith, after prais- 
ing enthusiastically the new presiding elder from Ken- 
tucky, who had been a guest in their house during the 
Christmas meeting, and who seemed to have inspired her 
with a degree of reverence that left her scarcely any 
thing else to talk of, exclaimed — 

"I wish you could see him and hear him pray." 

"How does he look?" I asked. 

"Tall, dignified, fine looking, but by no means hand- 
some; yet there is so much character, so much real 
worth expressed in his face, that you would never remark 
his prominent nose and wide mouth, except as indicative 
of intellect." 

"But he must look odd in one of those Methodist 
coats V 

"No, he does not; every thing he Avears is becoming; 
it could not be otherwise, with a man upon whose brow 
is written the simplicity of a Christian." 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 229 

"Well, I hope I shall have an opportunity of seeing 
this paragon of yours, but I warn you, I almost feel 
prejudiced against him, when I remember the Scripture 
declaration, 'Wo unto those of whom all men speak 
well."' 

"I do not know that everybody does speak well 
of him — I am sure that sinners must feel exceedingly 
uncomfortable under his searching sermons. I am told 
that quite a number thought the first sermon he 
preached at the Court-house powerfully severe, unveiling 
as he did the iniquity of the age with firm hand, and 
making them see themselves as God sees them." 

We were interrupted by the entrance of Captain 
Smith, just from town, who exclaimed — 

"Polly, have another roll of blankets put on Tevis's 
bed; he will be here to-night after preaching." 

"Indeed! I am truly glad; we were just speaking of 
him, and I am gratified at so soon having an opportu- 
nity of introducing him to our young friend. This is 
his rest week; he will spend it with us, I hope." 

I was conscious of a desire to see the man whose won- 
der-working energy and pious efforts had been crowned 
with almost unexampled success throughout the district 
over which he had for two years presided. 

The history of these two years has been so often 
spoken of, connected, as it was, with many co-workers 
whose biographies have been published, as to make it 
unnecessary for me to enlarge upon the subject. It 
does present a scene of benevolent exertions, telling upon 
the destiny of thousands; exhibiting in a strong light 
an earnest devotion to God and a love for precious souls 
by the humble, earnest, pious, and faithful Methodist 
preachers of that day — the results displaying the power 



230 Julia A. Tevis. 

and goodness of that merciful and gracious Redeemer, of 
whom they were the honored instruments. Those early 
itinerant preachers, inspired with zeal, and clothed with 
the armor of righteousness, sought not their own but the 
glory of God. They were, doubtless, raised up by an 
all-wise and gracious Providence, in pity for those wan- 
dering sheep scattered over the wilds of the far West, as 
well as for a more settled and prosperous people, who 
had strangely slighted the copious overflowings of divine 
love. Such preachers of the Gospel came as instructors, 
and shed a reproving light upon the corruptions of a 
time-serving world, bearing the high credentials of mes- 
sengers from heaven; and as examples of prayer and 
faith transmitted to the Church, not for admiration only, 
but for encouragement and invitation. Such only can 
arouse sinners from their stupor and bring them into the 
fold of Christ. Such honest embassadors of the Savior 
are blessings to the world. 

The guest came, and I was introduced to him, feel- 
ing a disposition to criticise his appearance and scruti- 
nize closely his manners and conversation. There was 
nothing, however, to criticize but his dish-shaped coat 
and straight collar. I dared to think these pretentious; 
but a second glance at the quiet face, radiant with peace, 
hope, and faith, resulting, doubtless, from an inward and 
spiritual grace — a confidence which seemed to be that of 
reposing strength, changed my opinion — for in those 
dark grey eyes slumbered a world of energy. His voice 
was clear and distinct; his movements calm, but always 
prompt, decisive, and rapid; directed, at the same time, 
with discretion. During his rest week in this part of the 
Holston District, which embraced a circuit of nine 
hundred miles, he found a welcome retreat at "The 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 231 

Meadows," where he might be refreshed after the toils 
of traveling over bad roads and mountain passes. His 
room, in a quiet part of the hospitable mansion, afforded 
a secluded sanctuary for private devotion ; while, in his 
friendship and society his worthy entertainers felt them- 
selves recompensed for all their kind offices and concern 
on his behalf, and that the prayers and presence of God's 
ministers brought ample blessings to the household. 

The week passed away, and the wayfaring man of 
God had gone ; but not so the remembrance of his fervent 
prayers and pious conversation. Mrs. Smith had often 
expressed her fears that living out of the Church, as she 
did, was not in keeping with her duty to herself and her 
family, though she had always been a strict attendant on 
the services of the Presbyterian Church, in which she had 
been brought up. She had lived in the world without 
partaking much of its spirit, and now she was almost 
persuaded to become a Methodist. Her husband opposed 
it steadily, but not violently. The law of rigid simplicity, 
which reigned at this time so pre-eminently among the 
Methodists, was not according to his taste; and he feared 
the influence of religion in earnest, and that a change in 
his household arrangements, superinduced by these rigid 
people who were turning the world upside down, might 
cast a shadow over his daughter's entrance into the gay 
world, and throw her too much out of its dress-circle. 
Thus he ridiculed the precision of its members and their 
particular exclusiveness, which did in reality make a 
dividing line between them and other religious sects, as 
well as the outer world. 

I do not intend to affirm that Mrs. Smith's sense of 
duty was at all affected by the ridiculous light in which 
Captain Smith placed straight coats, broad-brimmed hats, 



232 Julia A. Tevis. 

plain bonnets, and Quaker simplicity — not at all. She 
was decidedly pious, without any subserviency to worldly 
creeds; but she finally decided to join the Presbyterians, 
whose right-heartedness before God none ever questioned, 
and between whom and the Methodists of Abingdon 
there was a constant interchange of friendly Christian 
courtesies. It is a well-known fact that, in proportion 
as divine grace abounds in any Church, so does that 
charity which is but another name for God's love abound 
in the heart. Mrs. Smith lived and died a worthy mem- 
ber of the Church she had chosen, with sympathies 
widening and deepening for all other denominations. 
She is now a bright jewel in the Redeemer's crown, at 
whose feet she worshiped while a pilgrim on earth. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 233 



Chapter XVIII. 

Early in the Summer my mother, having received 
pressing invitations from her friends in Kentucky to 
visit them, resolved to break up housekeeping and return 
with her little family to the home of her youth, leaving 
to the future whether she would settle permanently in 
Kentucky. Her youngest brother lived at the old home- 
stead, and many of her nearest relatives in the immediate 
vicinity; indeed, her family connections, as well as those 
of my father, were so numerous that she thought it would 
be delightful to spend a year or more in visiting, while I 
remained to finish my engagement at Captain Smith's. 
As there was no expectation of her ever returning to 
Abingdon she turned all her effects into money, and 
soon after left in a comfortable private conveyance, jour- 
neying by the old Wilderness road. My heart was soon 
gladdened by the reception of a letter announcing their 
safe arrival among friends and relatives, who gave them a 
warm welcome. 

Meantime my little school held on the even tenor of 
its way. My loving, industrious pupils improved so 
rapidly as to make me feel that I was doing and receiv- 
ing good; and these would have been halcyon days, 
indeed, if I had been perfectly satisfied with myself. I 
felt an intense yearning after something that would satisfy 
the earnest longing of my soul for higher attainments in 
a Christian life. Clouds of heaviness, and sometimes of 
darkness, rested upon me. I was assured, and I do not 



234 Julia A. Tevis. 

deem it presumptuous to express it, that my Heavenly 
Father had led me onward by his gracious providence up 
to the present time, and I could but hope he was prepar- 
ing me for future and more extensive usefulness — I knew 
not when, how, or where. I read the Bible much, and 
prayed often; and cheerfully relinquished those frivolous 
amusements into which I had been drawn, more by cir- 
cumstances than taste — never having been fully satisfied 
that they were in keeping with the wants of an intellect- 
ual nature; yet I still continued to attend cotillion par- 
ties, and occasionally a "practicing ball" with my pupils, 
who were never permitted to go to these places, although 
a part of the regular routine of a dancing -school, unless 
I would accompany them. 

My previous experience in a religious course had been 
too formal; and now Reason began to detect the sophistry 
of the world's promises, and experience, to reveal the 
bitterness of its delusions. Wealth, honor, and pleasure 
appeared as visionary phantoms ; and I asked myself, 
with a beating heart, "Are all the forms of beauty 
here presented, the songs of melody, or the streams of 
pleasure which tend to lure us from the narrow path that 
leads to a better life, suitable desires for a creature who 
is to die to-morrow?" A long life continually rises up 
in prospect, but every day's experience proves the fallacy 
of depending upon that for a preparation to die. I 
thought so, at least; and I felt that a crisis had come 
when I must choose between the life of an earnest Chris- 
tian and a compromise with the world. A prophetic 
light seemed to be shed upon my inward vision, and with 
the eye of Faith I sought the anchor of Hope and the 
influence of the Spirit; praying that the world might be 
unmasked, and its vanities fully exposed, that I might 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 235 

detect the poison concealed in the chalice presented by 
the pleasures of earth. Life Avould still remain a bless- 
ing, and heaven still be attainable. 

A protracted -meeting was to be held in Abingdon, 
and I determined to avail myself of its privileges. The 
whole family attended Church on Saturday, and proposed 
being present at the eleven o'clock service on the Sab- 
bath, but I wished to be at the early morning love -feast 
as well. The walk to town was short; but as the weather 
was exceedingly hot, and the road dusty, I requested to 
have the carriage to convey me thither at early hour. 

"No, no," said Captain Smith, "you must not go 
before eleven, — it will be too much of a good thing this 
long, Avarm day." 

I made no reply; but his opposition only made me 
more determined, and in less than twenty minutes I was 
walking slowly through the orchard on my way to town. 
A few minutes more elapsed, and the carriage had over- 
taken me; it was ready before I left. 

. "Captain Smith has sent the carriage, ma'am — please 
get in; he thought you wa'n't in earnest about going in 
so early," said the polite coachman, as he sprang from 
his seat and threw open the door. 

"No, go back," I replied; "I find it pleasant enough 
to walk." 

The perplexed coachman was saved further remon- 
strance by my walking hastily onward ; and I soon 
reached the house of my friend, Mrs. Branch, who had 
become as much interested in the Methodists as I was. 

Mrs. Branch accompanied me to the church, which 
was filled to its utmost capacity by people whose anx- 
ious, serious, and interested looks betrayed the state of 
their minds. Curiosity, no doubt, had attracted some, 



236 Julia A. Tevis. 

as such a meeting was a novelty in the community. The 
gallery was crowded with sable faces, peering inquisi- 
tively around. The first hymn was sung with spirit and 
feeling, and was followed by a prayer unusually im- 
pressive and comprehensive. There were many from 
other Churches present. All knelt with the deepest 
reverence, and after a short address from the presiding 
minister the bread and water were handed round, of 
which all partook in token of Christian fellowship. 

That love-feast made a deep impression upon my heart, 
every avenue of which seemed open to the reception of 
divine truth. The sweet songs of Zion, the outgushing 
effusions of some happy in the love of God, the soul's 
burning incense mingling with the deep, hushed sobbings 
of penitent hearts, and occasionally a well-connected and 
touching narrative, which fell from the lips of one who had 
experienced the efficacy and power of divine grace, all 
enhanced the interest of the scene. On the one side was 
heard the soothing voice of comfort and encouragement, 
joined to the impetuous spirit's cry, and on the other, 

" Words low spoken seemed to bear 
The pleadings of an earnest prayer." 

Intervals of what appeared celestial music played upon 
the harp-strings of a regenerated spirit vibrated sweetly 
upon the listening ear, making the melody of heaven in 
the soul ; and when the whole congregation sang together 
the praises of redeeming love, I felt as if listening to the 
music of seraphic choirs, and could almost hear the rus- 
tling of angels' wings. The question arose, what can the 
world offer that will compare with the divine peace that 
softly flows like a pure stream over life's burning desert, 
gladdening those who put their trust in God? My deci- 
sion was made, then and there, to be a Christian without 



Sixty Years m a School-room. 237 

compromise; and as my soul whispered the words, "I 
am resolved what to do, " my restless and anxious spirit 
was quieted, and I thanked God for having made me 
acquainted with a people who regarded religion as an 
earnest matter. I knew their doctrines to be the same 
as those of the Church in which I had been baptized. 
Now I felt an aspiration for a zealous consecration to 
God, that I might no longer live under the miserable 
delusion that it was possible to serve God and the world 
at the same time. I wanted that religion which kindles 
upon the heart's altar a living faith in Jesus Christ, our 
Redeemer. 

An interval of an hour, during which many kept their 
seats from fear of being crowded out, and then came the 
eleven o'clock preaching. Silence reigned throughout 
the assembly as the solemn-browed minister arose and 
gave out a well-known hymn, which the whole congrega- 
tion sang with "the spirit and the understanding." The 
words were distinctly pronounced without interrupting 
the melody ; a short, but earnest prayer, a few prelimi- 
nary remarks after the second hymn, and the preacher 
opened upon the sublime subject of the atonement, 
portraying the unsatisfying nature of all that the world 
calls good and great. Never did the mutability and the 
insufficiency of all earthly things to satisfy the demands 
of the soul appear to me so plainly exhibited. Never 
did the world and its allurements, considered as a source 
of human happiness, appear so unavailing. He proved 
to a demonstration that a consciousness of present accept- 
ance with God was more valuable than crowns, king- 
doms, thrones, and dominions; and more to be desired, 
than all the boasted honors and privileges of this sin- 
banished world. These were nothing, yea, less than 

16 



238 Julia A. Tevis. 

nothing, compared with the vital importance of a con- 
science purified by the blood of the covenant. The bliss 
of piety on earth, with its triumphs in a dying hour, 
were never presented to a listening audience in purer 
strains of persuasive eloquence. The great and precious 
promises of the Gospel came forth with unction from the 
preacher's lips to the hearts of his hearers; indeed, with 
holy fire fresh from the altar above. The streaming tears 
and ascending shouts of the vast assemblage testified that 
it was a season of refreshing from the presence of the 
Lord; a flood of glory seemed poured in upon the con- 
gregation from the open gates of light. Sinners were 
awakened, and believers built up, comforted, strength- 
ened, and established in their most holy faith. It was a 
time of the outpouring of the Spirit never to be for- 
gotten, and the fruits of which will, doubtless, be seen 
in eternity. 

A few weeks after this tickets were issued for a grand 
ball to be given on the Fourth of July. The wave of 
religious excitement, that had passed over the town and 
vicinity, had drifted many from their worldly moorings, 
and fastened them firmly to the "Rock of Ages;" but 
the community, in general, were settled down to their 
usual routine of every-day life, and there seemed to be an 
intense interest felt by the lovers of amusement in the 
coming celebration. Everybody felt bound to attend the 
Fourth of July ball, as it was a national festivity. The 
young went to dance, and the old to look on. Mrs. 
Smith never attended any place of the kind, and I was ex- 
pected to go with my young pupils. Here was a tempta- 
tion hard to resist. Was it not my duty, under the 
circumstances, to go with them, even if I declined partici- 
pating? Would it be kind to deprive the girls of a 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 239 

privilege which they did not often enjoy? Would it not 
offend some whose good will I desired to retain? I tried 
to make it a subject of fervent prayer, and the struggle 
was soon over. I positively refused to attend the ball, 
or to give my countenance to it in any way. Some of 
my friends, whose opinion I valued, thought I was 
"straining at a gnat," even if I did not "swallow a 
camel;" but I was spared the hardest trial, for neither 
Mary Smith nor any of her companions complained at 
my decision ; and, to my surprise, seemed glad to be 
relieved of the trouble. Thus we often find the path 
of duty made easy as well as plain for us, when we 
choose the right and ask God's blessing upon it. 

One of my warmest friends, whom I admired and 
loved devotedly, commended and encouraged me by her 
example. Mrs. Joseph Trigg, "Cousin or Aunt Betty," 
as she was familiarly called, to whom all the young 
people of the country around were particularly attached, 
in consequence of the interest she took in them, being 
an ardent promoter of, and participator in, their social 
gatherings, was a woman of deep feeling, energetic and 
life-giving in whatever sphere she moved. Her enjoy- 
ment of society was intense, and rarely did a shadow 
darken her brow or dispel her unfailing good humor. 

Aunt Betty had now become a Methodist, combining 
the characteristics of Martha and Mary, and was as 
prominent a member of this straitest of all sects, as she 
had been a leader in the fashionable world. She worked 
now as energetically in striving to promote the cause 
and kingdom of the Savior, as she had formerly labored, 
to use her own expression, "to establish the kingdom 
of Satan." 

A quarterly-meeting was to be held in her neighbor- 



240 Julia A. Tevis. 

hood, eighteen or twenty miles from Abingdon, on the 
Saturday and Sunday preceding the Fourth of July. It 
was arranged between us that I should attend; but how? 
I would not ask for the carriage, # because I knew that 
Captain Smith was opposed to the whole matter. I had 
no company; it was finally agreed that Mrs. Trigg's old 
and faithful servant, Solomon, should be sent for me on 
Friday, and I could not have had a more trusty escort. 
We started early Saturday morning for the grove where 
the meeting was in progress, and where I was to meet 
Mrs. Trig-or. 

Solomon had a fund of religious anecdotes with which 
he entertained me on the way. He had long been a 
devoted Methodist, loved the cause and loved the preach- 
ers, none of whom ever tarried a night at his master's 
hospitable house without their shoes being blacked and 
their horses well cared for by him. He it was that 
held the bridle when the preacher left in the morning, 
and bade him "God-speed" on the way. He told me 
he had been a great sinner, and cared not how hard he 
had to work if he might but attend a horse race or a 
cock fight on Sunday; but it had pleased God to bring 
him among the Methodists in Western Virginia, and 
since he had heard them preach he had turned "right 
round and put his hand to the Gospel plow, and had 
been trying, ever since, to make a straight furrow to- 
ward the Kingdom." He had not been without his 
temptations to turn back, and his particular thorn in the 
flesh was his brother Jupiter, whom he wanted to go with 
him to the heavenly Canaan. But Jupiter was a hard 
case, and resisted all Solomon's efforts — loved his old 
ways and would not be persuaded to be a Christian, and, 
said Solomon, " de fact is, ma'r'm, I b'leve my brudder 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 241 

Jupiter done sold hisself to Satan, and I can 't somehow 
see why 't is dat ole Solomon can be happy in spite of 
all dis; but I knows I loves him, and will keep on lovin' 
him and pray for him to be kept out of de pit, and trust 
my God for de rest." 

Solomon was a proverb among his own people for 
honesty and industry, and his shining black face was a 
welcome sight to them, though he often interfered with 
their sinful amusements, and ceased not to labor for 
their good. The white people welcomed him into their 
churches, his real piety being well known to all. He 
would shout in the Presbyterian Church, if he was happy, 
with as much energy as if he had been among the Meth- 
odists, and yet he never shouted without "blessing God 
that he had ever seen the Methodists." Upon one occa- 
sion he was so happy, and shouted so vociferously, that 
a quiet gentleman at his elbow said, "Stop awhile, old 
man, or your religion will all run out;" to which he re- 
plied, "Bress God, full 'um up again." 

A few hours brought us to a large, old-fashioned barn, 
whose ample enclosure held a modest congregation of 
simple-hearted people, assembled there for the purpose 
of holding a love-feast before the morning service. The 
bowery trees afforded a delightful shade for a large num- 
ber of persons who waited for the hour of preaching. My 
friend was ready to receive me, and led me to a reserved 
seat among the professors of religion. I expected only 
to be an observer, as upon a former occasion, of what 
was passing before me. Again my soul was thrilled and 
vibrated in sympathy with the many speakers who arose, 
in quick succession, to tell of God's dealings with them, 
until, no longer able to control my feelings, I arose and 
asked an interest in the prayers of the people of God, 



242 Julia A. Tevis. 

stating in a few words, which were listened to in the 
deepest silence, my own convictions and determinations. 
This novel proceeding excited great interest in my behalf, 
which was increased when I asked permission to meet 
them the next day at the communion-table, that I might 
there pledge myself in solemn covenant to Jesus, my 
Redeemer, by partaking of the sacred emblems of the 
eucharistic feast. Assuming a determined attitude to re- 
sist any temptation to look back, I would join the Church 
at the circuit preacher's next appointment in Abingdon; 
I would then ask to have "the doors opened" for my 
especial benefit, that I might take the step openly among 
my friends and under no excitement. The ministers pres- 
ent held a consultation on the subject, and my request 
was granted. We had two sermons that day, and the 
crimson hues of sunset yielded to the silvery tranquillity 
of moon and stars before we reached Mrs. Trigg's dwell- 
ing, a few miles from the preaching-place. 

The next morning, Sabbath, I anticipated the sun in 
rising that I might read, pray, and meditate upon the 
solemn covenant I was that day to make; and oh how 
earnestly I prayed that I might not eat and drink to my 
own condemnation. I caught a glance of myself in the 
old-fashioned mirror, just before I descended to the break- 
fast room, and was startled at the incongruity of my 
dress for the occasion. My large double collarette of 
book-muslin seemed more conspicuous than ever before; 
my hair, dressed a la mode, with curls on the face, would 
contrast strangely with the Quaker-dressed people, with 
whom I was to be associated. So I exchanged the* col- 
larette for a simple muslin kerchief, folded over the 
bosom, and combed my hair smooth behind my ears; not 
that I thought this a matter of vital importance so far as 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 243 

I was concerned, but I feared many would regard it as 
unsuitable to my profession ; and, like St. Paul, I was 
willing to conform even to the prejudices of good people. 
I had no jewelry to dispense with; I never did admire, 
and scarce ever wore it, — not even a finger-ring. 

That day was an eventful one in my life, and the 
place where I worshiped was a way mark on my journey, 
a bethel to my soul. I returned to my every-day duties 
with fresh energy, and was occupied, during the next two 
weeks, at intervals, with the help of Mrs. Smith, in re- 
modeling my fashionable wardrobe, removing flounces, 
making plain substitutes for my standing collarettes, re- 
ducing my straw bonnet to moderate dimensions, and 
taking off all the trimming except a plain ribbon. 

My gay young friend, John Mitchell, would call every 
day or two to see how I was getting along, as he said, 
"in making myself as much like old Mother Russell as 
possible." Should he go to town and get me some Bath- 
coating, that I might have a long train like hers? had I a 
suitable girdle for my numerous pocket handkerchiefs? 
or wouldn't Aunt Smith make me some half-handed 
gloves? Captain Smith "hoped I would not require 
Mary to dress as I did, by conforming to this demure 
costume." Mrs. Smith laughed; I bore it with great 
equanimity of temper, and thus conquered by not being 
annoyed. 

During the two weeks of probation, my intention of 
joining the Church was much talked of, and I verily 
believe the congregation was increased on that day by 
the curiosity of many who still doubted, I know not 
why, unless it was that to be a Methodist required so 
many sacrifices. This denomination insisted upon a 
marked distinction between the world and the Church. 



244 Julia A. Tevis. 

There was to be no compromise, and I had lived so long 
in the fashionable world that those who formed their opin- 
ions without reflection judged of me by the standard of 
their own experience. But my decision was made with 
due deliberation, and I determined to follow the narrow 
path of a pilgrim to the better land. 

The appointed Sabbath came. I walked slowly through 
the orchard, the nearest way to town. It was a charm- 
ing morning. Summer was arrayed in her brightest tints. 
The blue sky above was cloudless and purely beautiful; 
and, to me, the air was never so balm}-, the trees so 
green, or the song of the birds so sweet. The dew 
sparkled in the fragrant flower- cups, and I rejoiced in the 
assurance that all these lovely objects were the exponents 
of God's wisdom, tokens of his benevolence, and the per- 
fect image of his greatness. 

When I entered the church I took my seat near the 
altar, in company with Mrs. Smith, my thoughtful young 
pupils, and my two good friends, Mrs. Branch and Mrs. 
Betty Trigg. The pulpit was filled by the Rev. Josiah 
Rhoton, the young man of threadbare memory. I heard 
but little of the sermon, though I tried to listen. It was 
said to be eloquent, but I was too much absorbed with 
my own thoughts and the importance of the step I was 
about to take, which I hoped and believed would bring 
me within the inner circle of God's providence. The ser- 
mon over, the preacher Avalked down from the pulpit and 
asked, "Are there any who wish to join the Church? 
If so, let them come forward while the congregation are 
singing the first hymn." I arose and stepped inside the 
altar before the first two lines were finished. I was alone; 
no one followed my example. The hymn finished, the 
congregation seemed to sit in breathless silence, while 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 245 

my name was announced, and the usual preliminaries 
were gone through. I was admitted into full member- 
ship, according to my own desire, after which I was com- 
pletely surrounded by Christian friends, who wept and 
rejoiced over me as a new-found sister. Some would have 
thought this too severe an ordeal and would have sought 
a different mode of admission into the Church. I argued 
otherwise, and was strengthened in the performance of 
what I conceived an imperative duty by God's blessing 
in the very act. He who knows all hearts, knows that I 
did not intend to make an ostentatious display, but, at 
the same time, I was not willing to sit in "Nicodemus's 
corner," desiring rather to make an open renunciation if 
haply my example might do good to others. 

My introduction into Methodist society made me ac- 
quainted with many excellent people whose simple man- 
ners and unaffected piety showed plainly the source 
whence it was derived. The religion of the Bible was 
worn as an every-day garment, and not kept for a showy 
Sunday suit. Conscience never permitted them to neg- 
lect real duties for the performance of imaginary ones. 
Among them, I learned that the essential worship of a 
true Christian consists in the daily discharge of temporal 
obligations, beautifully interwoven with daily spiritual 
worship before a throne of Grace, not forsaking the as- 
sembling together at proper times and places, as well as 
public worship on the Sabbath. The Ganaways, the 
Winifreds, and others in and about Abingdon, were true 
types of that Methodism, once termed by a Scotch divine 
"Christianity in earnest." They seemed to live always 
in sight of heaven. 

I was still privileged to hold sweet counsel with my 
excellent and tried friends of former companionship, who 



246 Julia A. Tevis. 

were now also striving to walk worthy of their high voca- 
tion — my amiable and sympathizing Mrs. B. , my warm 
hearted, though undemonstrative, Mrs. L., whose sunny 
good nature seemed to crystallize into a cheerful serenity 
that sparkled beneath the darkest skies; but, above all, I 
loved to talk with Aunt Betty, and we often reverted, 
with wonder, to the superficial feelings upon which we 
had hitherto lived, without knowing the depths of our 
own hearts. Together we attended all those places 
"where prayer was wont to be made," and felt as if just 
beginning to learn the true object and mystery of life. 

Thus the "velvet-footed" days flew noiselessly by. 
The rainbow of promise was before me, and a holy 
light seemed dawning on my vision; yet I was without 
any bright manifestation of a Savior's pardoning love, 
for which I was taught to pray and confidently expect. 
I was unwavering, however, in the determination that I 
would never stop short of any possible attainment in the 
glorious pathway to eternal life. Pride and vain self- 
confidence had long been my besetting sins, and I con- 
tinued to strive against them by constant prayer and 
watchfulness. Alas! how difficult the task after the 
deceitfulness of sin has taken such deep root in the soul! 
Yet, I did find a degree of peace so soon as resolution was 
enthroned as the guide of my soul, and I was enabled, in 
all sincerity, to disrobe myself of that pharisaical religion 
which had given me nothing but a heartless experience 
of the folly of those spasmodic efforts to do good and be 
good, without some settled principle. I prayed con- 
stantly for faith and a persevering adoption of the spirit 
of Christ. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 247 



Chapter XIX. 

Summer waned and Autumn came. In September, 
1823, the annual camp-meeting was held near the 
Sulphur Springs, in Smyth County, Virginia. A beau- 
tiful grove of grand old trees in a lovely mountain gorge 
marked the spot that had, for this especial purpose, been 
generously donated to the Methodists for the term of a 
hundred years by Colonel Thompson, the son-in-law of 
old Mother Russell. Mother Russell's unobtrusive dwell- 
ing was in the immediate vicinity, and she not only 
attended constantly this means of grace herself, but 
her house was the temporary home of many who came 
from a distance. The camp-meetings held on this spot 
were widely diffusive of good, and were really necessary 
in a country so sparsely settled as was this part of 
Western Virginia at that time. It was not uncommon 
to find persons attending from Tennessee and North 
Carolina. 

We reached the camp-ground late in the afternoon of 
a brilliant Autumn day; while yet flakes of sunshine, 
sifting through the pendant branches, fell like tremulous, 
gleaming gems upon the heads of the assembled congre- 
gation. Near by, but hidden under the foliage of the 
water willow, whose branches hung over the clear stream, 
was a spring widening into smooth, deep water — a min- 
iature lake, throwing back the sunshine like a mirror, 
and keeping all its secret depths unlighted; then con- 



248 Julia A. Tevis. 

tracting into a narrow stream it ran, glittering like a 
silver thread, through the valley beneath. Beyond it 
rose a magnificent mountain, skirted with woods and, 
even to the very summit, dotted with farms and dwell- 
ings rendered quite distinct on a clear day. Nearer, and 
upon one side of the green and goodly valley where the 
tents were pitched, was a less elevated mountain, covered 
with every shade of green foliage, interspersed with flow- 
ering shrubs; among which predominated the luxuriant 
and richly-tinted "laurel," with its deep green leaves so 
refreshing to the eye. The declining sun touched every- 
thing with a soft and tender light, and the few fleecy 
clouds, visible in the fathomless blue air, seemed like 
white doves of peace, floating with wings outspread 
in benediction over the assembled multitude of God's 
people, who had come up into the wilderness, apart from 
the dust and heat and hurry of existence, that they 
might hold sweet communion with each other, and bow 
with united hearts before their great Creator, here to 
worship him under the overarching skies in a "temple 
not made with hands." 

A winding pathway up the mountain side, quite con- 
cealed from the passers-by, led to a spot high up, where, 
under the spreading oak and chestnut, prayer was offered 
up during the intervals of public preaching for earnest 
seekers of religion. Pious and experienced women, who 
were ever laboring for the good of souls, and who felt 
that a cup of cold water given to famished lips in the 
spirit of the Gospel is a pearl of great price in the sight 
of Him who has pronounced it "more blessed to give 
than to receive," were accustomed to pray there with and 
for the female penitents and seekers of religion. All 
along its steep ascent were quiet nooks and shady dells, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 249 

where no prying eye or careless footstep would be likely 
to intrude. 

I had come to the meeting by the special invitation 
of Aunt Betty, whose hospitality I was to share, and 
whose large heart and ample provision made it a pleasant 
resting-place for many of her friends. Her tent — or, 
rather, cottage — was erected by her kind husband, with 
great attention to comfort and convenience, having an 
upper story containing small sleeping apartments, while 
the lower story was appropriated to prayer-meetings and 
the reception of transient visitors. The bountiful table 
was spread under the shade of the trees, near the little 
temporary kitchen where old Solomon presided as chief. 
To his heart's delight, he found ample time not only to 
wait on the preachers, whom he almost worshiped, but 
also to attend prayer-meetings among his colored breth- 
ren, and occasionally fill their preaching -stand as an 
exhorter; besides, he never neglected the preaching hour 
among the whites. It was pleasant to see his shining 
black face, softened by a magnificent fleece of white wool, 
with dilated eyes and half- open mouth, as he sat at a 
modest distance during the service, drinking in large 
draughts from the same pure fountain of mercy as his 
white brethren; and it was exciting to hear his deep, 
suppressed, "Amen, massa! bress God!" — the tears 
flowing fast as he occasionally exclaimed, "Free salva- 
tion, glory to my Massa in heaven!" 

My first night at the encampment was full of beauty. 
At each of the four corners of the camp-ground was left 
the stump of a large tree, four or five feet high, the tops 
of which were rendered fire -proof by a layer of brick 
and mortar, and upon these blazed burning pine knots, 
lighting up all the surroundings with their tall flames. 



250 Julia A. Tevis. 

Among the dark, green foliage glittered the flickering 
lights of numerous lamps attached to trees; beautiful 
white vapors floated in the star-lit sky, now resting an 
instant, then glancing onward, hiding the face of the full 
moon like a snowy veil cast over the jeweled brow of a 
queen. Green trees, grassy meadows, wild flowers, and 
mountain scenery - always seem to raise me above the 
earth and its cares, — thus I may be pardoned for what 
might seem an unnecessary fullness of description of the 
singular and beautiful scene; and there are connected 
with this meeting incidents so vividly daguerreotyped 
upon my heart that even now Memory, with her magic 
power, lights them up as beautifully as at first. 

In the stand were reverend, good-looking men, whose 
very appearance inspired confidence. The trumpet was 
sounded, and long lines of people were seen wending 
their way to roughly constructed seats, made for the 
occasion. I never saw more perfect order, more atten- 
tion to politeness and decorum, in any assemblage of 
people. The hymn was announced, — all sang together; 
in those days singing was worship, — the beginning, as it 
were, of prayer. The assembled multitude rose up to 
sing, and, after repeating the last two lines of the hymn, 
fell upon their knees, to continue that act of devotion in 
prayer; and there was a power in it, felt by all. When 
we arose again a well-known melody poured forth from 
the hearts of the whole congregation, full of freedom, of 
simplicity, of feeling, and of energetic sentiment. It was 
as the wings of seraphim, upon which the assembled mul- 
titude were borne heavenward, thus elevating preachers 
and hearers in the introductory, so that the whole subse- 
quent service showed its effect. Never did truer music 
gush from the human heart; and a more efficacious 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 251 

means for inspiring the minds of the hearers with the 
love of religion could hardly be conceived than when its 
sublime sentiments are clothed in sweet musical harmony 
that captivates the senses, and touches the soul through 
the medium of the ear and the heart. Many of the old 
tunes, habitual in the worship of those days, seem in- 
stinctive to the devotional feelings of our people. If our 
congregations had not then the artistic appreciation in 
the execution of music which belongs to the present day, 
they had, at least, more of that heart-gushing piety which 
flows in sweet music from the exhaustless fountain of 
true religion; and their choice tunes showed a higher 
musical taste than now prevails among us. Charles 
Wesley's hymns, so full of glowing piety, would kindle 
a heavenly flame in the hearts of any assembly sincerely 
desirous of praising and worshiping God. We ridicule 
many of the old tunes, as well as the poetry to which 
they were sung, as not fit for a genteel congregation. 
The reproach is just to some extent, but not so fully as 
is supposed; for there was a period when these melodies 
were used almost exclusively with Charles Wesley's noble 
strains. The fact is, the primitive Methodists were more 
exempt from doggerel follies than w r e are. ' Methodist 
singing, at church and at home, once had a charm of its 
own, almost as much as Quaker apparel had a fashion of 
its own, — and every body liked it, because it made mel- 
ody in every heart. 

Our surroundings were favorable to devotion. We 
were too remote from cities and towns to be annoyed by 
the curious and the idle. Even those who came to observe 
and to be observed remained to pray. Public services 
never continued later than ten o'clock P. M., — at that 
hour all were expected to seek repose ; yet in some of the 



252 Julia A. Tevis. 

tents the voice of prayer and praise was heard at a much 
later hour, and, at intervals, the prolonged shouts of 
happy souls. 

The sound of the trumpet at early dawn awakened 
all slumberers for morning prayer; after which a frugal 
meal — nothing hot but tea or coffee — was prepared, and 
then an interval of two or three hours spent in private 
devotion before the eleven o'clock preaching. We dined 
at precisely one o'clock, giving an opportunity for the 
serious and. penitent to withdraw again for private prayer. 
Religious exercises, thus conducted, even the most cen- 
sorious and fastidious must acknowledge to be productive 
of great good, and was the very thing most needed in a 
thinly settled country, where the visits of a minister 
were only occasional, and preaching -places were few 
and far between. Here rich streams of Gospel grace 
caused all hearts to overflow with love to God; and the 
hallowed music of many voices mingled with the songs 
of the redeemed in heaven. 

Returning one evening with some friends from our 
mountain retreat, we were attracted by a crowd standing 
before the open door of a large tent. Agreeably to the 
simple customs of the place, we entered without cere- 
mony, and saw a young woman lying on a couch, in a 
state of total insensibility. The pallor of her face and 
her closed eyelids, the coldness of her marble brow, and 
the icy touch of her folded hands, would have indicated 
death ; but the heart gently fluttered like a caged bird, 
and the very spirit of tranquillity hovered over that sweet 
face. She had been in this state for several hours, and 
some were apprehensive that the soul was about to leave 
its clayey tenement forever; but before midnight the 
color gradually returned to her face, and, as the vital 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 253 

spark was rekindling, she opened her eyes and softly- 
whispered, — 

"This sweet calm within my breast 
Is the best pledge of heavenly rest ;" 

and the quiet eyelids closed again, as if seeking that 
deeper rest. I know this to be true; but have no com- 
ments to make upon it, except that this young person 
was well known, and loved and respected, as a model of 
unpretending piety. She worshiped God with inward 
zeal and served him in every action, and never after- 
wards referred to this trance as any thing remarkable, 
but frequently spoke of the melody and love with which 
her soul was filled. Had she heard unutterable things, 
and seen visions that were ineffable? 

I tried to improve every privilege afforded me at this 
meeting, but from day to day, without any bright evi- 
dence of my acceptance with God. I knew full well 
that a change had been wrought in my heart, that the 
things I formerly delighted in no longer captivated my 
senses; but I knew also that I was not truly converted, 
and I began to doubt — not the truth of the doctrine of 
sudden conversions, but that I was ever to expect to be 
changed in the twinkling of an eye, as was St. Paul. I 
would not be discouraged, however; having put my hand 
to the plow and turned my face Zionward, I determined, 
by the help of God, never to look back. I would wait 
patiently with the perfect assurance that my Heavenly 
Father would never have implanted desires that could 
not be fulfilled. 

On the afternoon of a day that had been filled with 
intensely interesting scenes, I went with a few pious 
friends up into the mountain to pray. "Aunt Betty 
Trigg" was among the number, her soul full of love and 

17 



254 Julia A. Tevis. 

prayer. We knelt beneath the wide-spreading branches 
of an oak whose leaves had been repeatedly agitated by 
the breath of fervent prayer, resolved to wrestle like 
Jacob until the blessing was obtained. All prayed; but 
one voice was heard to swell above the rest, and then 
came the hallowed silence of humble saints absorbed in 
prayer for me, whilst I felt the full force of that beautiful 
expression, "I can but perish if I go, I am resolved 
to try." It was a season of holy influences. I can 
not tell — I never could; but this much I know, I 
felt willing to yield all to the will of God, and place 
my hopes of happiness for time and eternity at the 
foot of the cross; and then came a "joy and peace in 
believing" that words could not express, and I sat like 
Mary at the feet of Jesus and wept, with that sweet song 
in my mouth: 

"In such a frame as this, 

I 'd sit and sing my soul away, 

To everlasting bliss." 

From this time the meeting was full of enjoyment. I 
could now raise my voice to swell the chorus of redeem- 
ing love. I felt that I was a creature of mercy, called by 
the word of God to seek my everlasting peace in the 
covenant of redemption. 

The events connected with this precious week spent 
among the godly tents of Jacob and the tabernacles of 
Israel are so full of interest to me that I must be par- 
doned for prolixity. The time of parting came, and I 
left many behind whom I might not meet again this side 
of heaven. All, all must part on earth, yet there will be 
a meeting hereafter in those gardens beside the waters 
of life, a glorious and eternal meeting for all who die in 
the triumphs of the Gospel. 

When at home and in the school-room again, I found 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 255 

my dear little girls looking curiously at me, as if desirous 
of knowing what would come of all this. I afterward 
understood that some of them had resolved to test the 
change and try the strength of my religion. They well 
knew that a hasty and impatient temper was m)' besetting 
sin, and that I never could tolerate idleness and want of 
order. An inkstand was overturned ; silence was inter- 
rupted during study hours by suppressed tittering or low 
whispers, loud enough, however, to catch my attention, 
with various other indications of insubordination; and to 
cap the climax, badly recited lessons continued for sev- 
eral days. 

I stood the test tolerably well for I was on my guard 
and prayed for help, yet I failed not to punish and firmly 
held the reins of government without any scolding. 
Finally they gave over, and came with faltering voices 
and tearful eyes to ask pardon, which they would have 
done upon their bended knees if permitted. After this 
we had a pleasant time enough, and the dear little peni- 
tents began to hold class-meetings and love-feasts and 
almost daily prayer-meetings among themselves. This 
was done with sincerity and in the full tide of new and 
joyful emotion, hence, no one interrupted them. These 
reunions were finally given up, because, at their last 
meeting in the meadow under the shady trees, while 
one of the girls was praying and the others weeping 
with intense feeling, some thoughtless boys, perched 
in the branches of the trees, were amusing themselves 
at the expense of the girls, pretending to weep, one, 
to-day known as Parson Brownlow, wiping his eyes 
with a brickbat and another with a shingle. The noise 
they made attracted the attention of the girls. Deeply 
incensed and greatly shocked, they fled precipitately 



256 Julia A. Tevis. 

into the house, and determined never again to place 
themselves under circumstances where holy things could 
be ridiculed, yet they did not carelessly cast aside those 
sweet influences of Christianity, still continuing to sing 
hymns, holding class-meetings occasionally in their own 
room and praying together frequently. 

Who shall say that these young girls, brought up un- 
der the happy influences of the Gospel, and so readily 
responding to the Savior's call, "Daughter, give me thy 
heart," were not the objects of God's peculiar care? 
What a charming spectacle was this family of docile and 
dutiful children, increasing in knowledge and virtue as 
they grew in stature. 

Years passed ; these sister-spirits attained to woman- 
hood ; their souls being constantly watered by the dew of 
Lebanon, were kept ever fresh and green. Each lovely 
and beloved, exerted, in her own sphere, a pure, ele- 
vated, and holy influence, beautifully exemplifying the 
effect of early training. Three, having nobly fulfilled the 
work assigned them on earth, have gone to their eternal 
reward. One yet lives to bless the world by her example 
as a wife, mother, and friend, the fragrance of a loving 
household, and the light of the circle in which she moves. 

Those who thus begin life's pilgrimage find that relig- 
ion becomes more and more pleasant every day. It is 
like ascending a mountain, where the prospect, hour after 
hour, expands and becomes more glorious; like watching 
the dawn growing brighter and brighter, until hill and 
vale, lake and forest, are bathed in a blaze of effulgence. 
Our divine religion is the soul's native air, its portion, 
its celestial home, the coronet of youth and the crown of 
old age. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 257 



Chapter XX. 

I had expected to remain at "The Meadows" until 
Mary's education should be completed, and this was 
ardently desired by all concerned; but the period was 
rapidly approaching which was to make an important 
change in my future. In the latter part of September, 
Mr. Tevis tarried a few days at Captain Smith's, on his 
way to his Kentucky home, where he was accustomed to 
spend a week at the close of each conference year. Hav- 
ing had frequent opportunities of learning the true ele- 
vation of soul which characterized this self-sacrificing', 
noble-minded Christian, and contrasting the true value 
and lofty worth of the things of God and eternity with 
the vanities and follies of the world, it was very natural 
that I should esteem and honor one so thoroughly a mis- 
sionary of the cross, one in whom goodness seemed per- 
sonified. His prayer for the family, on the morning of 
his departure, was more than usually fervent, and charac- 
terized by a simple and lofty eloquence that kindled a 
devotional spirit in every heart; and when he bade us 
farewell, a glow of holy feeling beamed on his face, as if 
it were to be his last meeting with us on earth. Almost 
involuntarily, I walked to the window to watch his reced- 
ing form as he passed rapidly down the lawn through the 
gate-way and mounted his horse and quickly disappeared. 
I was conscious then of a deeper interest in Mrs. Smith's 
model preacher than I was willing to acknowledge even 
to myself. 



25S Julia A. Tevis. 

Scarce two weeks had elapsed when I received a pas- 
toral letter from him, post-marked Knoxville, Tennessee, 
requesting a reply at Shelbyville, Kentucky. Not a single 
expression in his letter evinced a deeper interest in me 
than he might have felt and expressed for others of his 
numerous charge. I readily accepted the opportunity of 
corresponding with one whose pious advice might aid me 
in my onward efforts through the new and almost untried 
path before me. A truly religious friendship, imbued 
with the spirit of the Gospel, is one of the greatest of 
earthly blessings. My reply found him at his father's 
home, near Shelbyville. Our correspondence was contin- 
ued without the slightest allusion to the prospect of a 
more intimate relationship, though we both afterward 
acknowledged to an occasional glimpse, somewhat vague, 
it is true, of a more united interest thereafter for time 
and for eternity. 

The usual Christmas quarterly-meeting brought him 
back to Abingdon, but he tarried in town with a brother 
Wills. On New Year's Eve a long letter, written closely 
and with great care, was handed me. This contained a 
plain, matter-of-fact proposal of marriage, but sufficiently' 
tender for a dignified minister of the Gospel. He re- 
quested my earnest and prayerful consideration of the 
matter, previous to a personal interview, which he desired 
might take place on the morrow. Early on the first day 
of January we quietly talked the whole subject over, as 
we sat in Mrs. Smith's dining-room, one on each side of 
the fire-place. We were not young enough for romance, 
he being thirty-two years of age and I twenty-four; and 
we were both too serious for affectation or trifling. Thus, 
after settling some difficulties which appeared to me in- 
superable, relating to a continued provision for the com- 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 259 

fort and support of my mother and family, all of which 
were obviated, as soon as presented, by this liberal- 
minded Christian, who cheerfully promised to aid me in 
all that I might be required to do for them, an engage- 
ment was agreed upon. We felt assured that the blessing 
of God would follow a union so entered into; and that, 
bound together by the most sacred of earthly ties, we 
might toil and weep and pray and rejoice together in this 
fallen world and meet as friends in the Celestial Paradise, 
where there are greetings such as only angelic hearts 
can know. 

Captain Smith, though thoroughly vexed at the de- 
rangement of his own plans, entered heartily into ours. 
He could not forbear exclaiming, however, "Well, I'll 
never invite another Methodist preacher into my house 
unless he be ugly, old, and disagreeable." The day of 
our marriage was fixed for Tuesday, March 9, 1824, in 
honor of the birth-day of my future father-in-law. Dur- 
ing the interim our regular duties were not interrupted. 
The presiding elder did not ride a mile less, nor did he 
omit the preaching of a single sermon. My books and 
pupils occupied my attention as completely as ever, 
though at intervals I plied diligently the swift, shining 
needle, for I w T as still my own mantua-maker. 

For the benefit of my lady readers, and especially to 
satisfy the curiosity of my pupils, I will merely advert to 
my trousseau. My wedding-dress was an India muslin 
robe, made in the prevailing style, only three widths in 
the skirt, and severely plain in every respect ; no chaplet 
of orange flowers gleaming with pearls; no rich laces, no 
ornaments of any kind, not even a bridal veil. I did 
expect to take a trip, but I should need neither a travel- 
ing dress nor a large trunk. A pair of common saddle- 



260 Julia A. Tevis. 

bags would carry all I wanted. The only expensive dress 
that I had was a black Canton crape robe, purchased at 
what I considered at the time to be an enormous price, 
twelve dollars. 

The eventful day at last arrived. It was cloudy and 
drizzling, cold and cheerless, with only occasional glimp- 
ses of sunshine. Mr. Tevis spent the day in his own 
room, having donned his wedding-suit when he first 
arose, to the complete astonishment of those who met 
him at the breakfast-table. I have said that the day was 
unpleasant; leaden clouds hung low on the misty horizon; 
but no gloomy doubts pressed upon my mind. Late in 
the afternoon the clouds in the West broke away, and 
the sun, sinking into night, threw his parting beams upon 
the earth. 

No cards of invitation had been issued, but some 
twenty or thirty of our mutual friends were made ac- 
quainted with the day and the hour. Thus, soon after 
early candle-light, the wedding-guests came dropping in 
until the parlor was comfortably filled. The ceremony, 
performed by the Rev. W. P. Kendrick, was long and 
impressive ; and as we knelt down in solemn prayer, 
offered up at the close, the whole company knelt with 
us. Then came the usual congratulations, warm greet- 
ings, and the social interchange of sentiment and feeling. 
A sumptuous and costly banquet followed, where brilliant 
repartee and well-timed compliment lost nothing from the 
exhilarating influence of happy hearts. No pains had 
been spared to render the evening agreeable, and the 
effort was not only fully appreciated, but eminently suc- 
cessful. Even Mr. Tevis, always serious as eternity, and 
whom I had never known to laugh, was compelled to 
smile frequently at the sallies of our ever-mirthful friend, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 261 

Captain Smith, who was, on that memorable evening, as 
gleeful as a school-boy. 

It was impossible to be untouched by the sympathetic 
kindness of the warm-hearted Virginians whom I had 
known but a few years; not a solitary relation among 
them, and yet there were friends that might be called 
mothers, sisters, and brothers. 

O Virginia, name ever dear to my heart, there is 
music in the sound. Why are those events in my past 
history, connected with Virginia pictures, so freshly and 
beautifully before my eyes while others have been swept 
into oblivion? It was there beside the gushing mountain 
rill, in childhood's happy hours, I gathered sweet forget- 
me-nots and pressed them between the leaves of affection. 
There, in riper years I tasted the joys of pure Christian 
friendship, and was the recipient of that warm hospitality 
so peculiar to the "Old Dominion." It was there, too, 
that I fully adopted Joshua's resolution and registered 
my determination to "serve the Lord all the days of 
my life." 

We spent one quiet day at "The Meadows," and 
started early the following morning upon our wedding- 
trip to Greenfield, expecting to receive the congratula- 
tions of a few pious friends, and to attend a quarterly- 
meeting then in progress. It was a delightful Spring 
morning, unusually mild for the season. The scenery 
was magnificent, touched by the light of two happy 
hearts. As we rode on, sometimes in silence, I felt an 
inexpressible peace in the comfortable assurance that we 
were directed by Providence in the step we had taken. 
Why was it that, when driven to the necessity of teach- 
ing for a support, I had found a home in the Western 
corner of Virginia instead of among my own people, who 



262 Julia A. Tevis. 

knew my qualifications and could have aided me in build- 
ing up a reputation? Why was it that my husband, after 
having traveled several years in Ohio and Kentucky as 
an acceptable preacher, should have been transferred to 
the Western District without having asked or desired it, 
commencing his career as Presiding Elder of the Holston 
District the same year that I began my school at Wythe- 
ville? And why did we two, total strangers, meet in 
Abingdon under circumstances so favorable to the devel- 
opment of a personal interest in each other, which ended 
in an agreement to walk life's pilgrimage together? 
Surely Providence would smile upon a companionship 
of sympathetic souls actuated by the noblest motives and 
purest principles. 

I have often wondered that people talk so much of 
wedding paraphernalia, magnificent establishments, and a 
grand position in the world, as the things most desirable 
in married lfe, as if the only object in view was to live at 
ease; and now I felt fully convinced of the folly of such 
anticipations and desires, and, from my inmost soul, 
indorsed what I had often said before, that I would rather 
be the wife of a faithful, devoted missionary of the cross, 
poor though he might be in this world's goods, — yea, 
the wife of even a Methodist itinerant, darn his stockings, 
patch his elbows, and brush his threadbare coat, — than be 
clothed in purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously 
every da)-, if I might only be an humble instrument in 
aiding him to promote the highest interests of mankind. 
I was happier then, far happier, riding on my saddle- 
bags, than if I had been rolling in a coach with footmen 
and outriders. I neither wished nor expected a life of 
inglorious ease; on the contrary, I was charmed with 
the prospect of being a colaborer in Christ's vineyard 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 263 

with one who had adopted as his motto, "Earnestness 
is life." 

Neither of us had any sympathy with that tranquillity 
never ruffled by a storm nor dimmed by a passing cloud. 
We both felt that life under such circumstances would 
become insipid, the spirit of action droop, and the slight- 
est annoyances and molestations become real misfortunes. 
We must have something to do, as a means of stimulat- 
ing the slumbering energies of human nature. How 
admirable is earnestness in the pursuit of noble objects, 
when guided by the wisdom that prompts the heart to 
fervent prayer and the hand to deeds of self-denying 
goodness! Firmness with intelligence, dignity in princi- 
ple, sincerity in faith, and buoyancy in hope, — these are 
the true springs of action. 

We talked of our future plans; I promising never to 
interrupt his itinerant course, while it was agreed that I 
should continue my vocation as a teacher, by locating in 
the beautiful village of Shelbyville, within two miles of 
the home of his aged parents. All these plans were car- 
ried out. I do not think he ever preached a sermon less, 
and, thank God ! there was never any impediment in his 
having, as St. Paul would say, "a wife to lead about." 
We were happy then in arranging these plans; happier, 
under God's blessing, in being able to carry them out. 
How fully we realized the sweet promise, "Seek first the 
kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added unto 
you," will be seen in the course of my biography. 

On Monday we returned to our usual vocations — he 
to his district appointments, and I to my school-room. 
"The Meadows" was now, by cordial invitation, a home 
for both of us; yet Mr. Tevis could be there only at 
long intervals, as his district, comprising nine hundred 



264 Julia A. Tevis. 

square miles, required not only celerity of movement, 
but constant work. A presiding elder in those days 
preached usually one and sometimes two sermons every 
day, besides attending quarterly- meetings ; whereas now 
the districts are so much smaller that the presiding elder 
is only required to attend his quarterly -meetings, and 
seldom has an appointment during the week, giving him 
an opportunity of resting ten or twelve days at a time. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 265 



Chapter XXI. 

In May Mr. Tevis left for Baltimore, being a delegate 
to the General Conference which met there in 1824. 
This was very agreeable to him, as, in addition to the 
pleasure of meeting brethren from all parts of the United 
States and delegates from the British Wesleyan Method- 
ists, it afforded him an opportunity of seeing two of his 
brothers, who resided there. 

My school duties prevented my accompanying him ; 
but we arranged to meet on his return at Wytheville, 
where he, as well as myself, had many warm friends. I 
was to go as far as Wythe with Mrs. Smith and family, 
who were to leave home about that time for their usual 
Summer trip. 

The rapidly revolving weeks soon brought the wished- 
for period, and we started on our journey; but we met 
with a woful disappointment by a breakdown a few miles 
from home, making it necessary to return for a new con- 
veyance, less elegant, but more substantial. This detained 
us two days. Meantime Mr. Tevis, who was punctuality 
itself, reached Wythe, and, not finding me there, was 
obliged, after waiting one day, to go back forty miles, to 
attend an appointment, without seeing me. When this 
was told to old Mother Russell, who, by the by, always 
insisted that he might have served God better in single 
blessedness, she clappped her hands and shouted aloud, 
exclaiming that she knew her elder loved the Church 
better than he did his wife. 



266 Julia A. Tevis. 

Two days later I reached Wytheville, and had to wait 
patiently until my husband should be released from, his 
Church duties. I knew he would be prompt in coming 
to me. Early Monday morning I was awakened by the 
sweet, musical voice of a dear little four-year-old girl of 
Captain Mathews, who came running into my room, 
clapping her hands and crying out, "Get up, lady, get 
up, quick; man down stairs want to see you." I hastened 
down, and, sure enough, found Mr. Tevis, who had driven 
nearly all night, after the meeting was concluded, that he 
might breakfast with me. Not then, nor ever, did he 
neglect the smallest duty for pleasure, and yet he was as 
fervent in affection as ardent in zeal. 

After a few days spent in social intercourse, and in 
the enjoyment of that sanctified Christian friendship which, 
will beam more brightly and glow more warmly in heaven, 
we returned to "The Meadows," where we had been so 
pressingly urged "to be at home" during the absence of 
the family. The good "lady of the manor" had not 
only said, "Occupy till I come," but had made ample 
arrangements for our comfort and convenience before she 
left, placing every thing at our disposal. 

Our return was hailed by the servants with unmingled 
delight. Scarcely had the sound of the wheels that 
whirled us over the graveled walk reached their ears, 
when they came with their glowing welcomes, crowding 
the doorway and hovering around the carriage. Old 
Aggy, one of the privileged characters of the establish- 
ment, such as are frequently found in Southern families, 
noted for their devotion to "massa" and "missus," had 
every thing in perfect order for our reception. Aggy 
was reverenced and respected by the colored folks, and 
trusted by the white ones. Ever faithful and true to the 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 267 

family, more than usual honor had been heaped upon 
her. Filling the place of an under -housekeeper, she 
carried an enormous bunch of keys at her girdle, which 
usually announced her appearance by their jingling. 
Aggy was one of the persons who scorned the fashion 
of narrow skirts and sober colors. Her gay red calicoes 
were full and ample; and as a matter of curiosity, when- 
ever the shuffling of her slippers was heard, every eye 
was turned towards her shining, good-humored, black 
face, surmounted by a red Madras handkerchief. Shoes 
she had renounced because of a severe fall "once upon 
a time," caused by the slipping of her high heels upon 
the waxed floor. Coming into the dining-room one day, 
she fell prostrate, to the infinite amusement of the com- 
pany. "Save the wine!" exclaimed one of the guests; 
and she did save it, holding up the bottles to the extent 
of her two polished ebony arms. Arising, and retreating 
rapidly, she had another fall before she vanished. 

Aggy's husband, familiarly termed "Old Billy," was 
a perfect specimen of conjugal devotion; but considered 
it a positive duty "to dress her," as he called it, 
occasionally, at the risk of being himself re-dressed. 
Billy, who was one of the ugliest and sternest and 
blackest of his race, being a sort of major-domo over the 
darkies in general, kept up a strict regimen in his own 
family. One morning, during the absence of Mr. and 
Mrs. Smith, the most awful screams were heard from 
Billy's cottage, mingled with the sound of the lash. Mrs. 
Smith's brother ran in haste to the scene of action, and 
found him whipping his wife severely. "Stop! stop, 
you barbarous old wretch, quit that instantly!" Aggy 
ceasing her cries and turned fiercely around, said, "Go 
'long 'way from here, Massa Joe; Billy shall whip me 



268 Julia A. Tevis. 

whenever he pleas' to." "Be it so," said the young man, 
and left the affectionate couple to settle it themselves. 

We had now a beautiful gig, light, but strong, and 
well fitted for journeying over rough roads, and a strong 
gentle horse, the gift of our excellent brother Benjamin 
Tevis, of Baltimore, who had long before acknowledged 
his brotherly affection for me by frequent letters, and in 
the more tangible form of beautiful and valuable presents, 
the exponents of his life-long kindness and generosity 
to us. 

As Mr. Tevis was seldom at home, I should have felt 
lonely during the absence of the family, but for the 
kindness of my Abingdon friends, who kept up a cordial 
intercourse by frequent interchange of visits; besides, I 
was much occupied in striving to fit myself for a more 
extended sphere of usefulness as a teacher. Looking 
upon the bright side of every thing, the dew-drops of 
hope, reflecting the sunlight of happiness, formed a glit- 
tering bow of promise that spanned the gulf between the 
present and the future. The discipline of my life had 
been salutary; the foundation had been laid deep and 
firm by the hand of necessity, not choice, and thus I was 
gradually prepared by Providence to perform a work that 
my heart, strong, proud, and self-commanding, would 
gladly have rejected. I had marked out a different 
course of action from that of the toilsome thorny path 
of a teacher, the anticipated confinement and drudgery 
of which was not at all to my taste. But misfortune 
and sorrow came to tear aside the thin delusions of my 
own conceit, and I have learned the glorious truth, that 
"labor is the grand pedestal of God's blessings upon 
earth." There are few blessings in life unalloyed, few 
trials unmixed. The good we sometimes ardently desire 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 269 

has an unseen evil which will rise to cloud it in the very- 
moment of possession, and the evil we deprecate pro- 
duces some happy effect which does not always cease 
when its immediate cause is withdrawn. If Ephraim-like 
we cling to our idols we perish with them ; but if we 
cease to strive against the dealings of Providence, crooked 
paths will be made straight. God's time and will are 
beautiful, and through the darkest clouds of judgment 
gleams of mercy often come. 

Early one Summer morning I was taking a drive with 
Mrs. Branch to the house of a friend, where we were to 
spend the day and night. We were wending our way 
slowly that we might enjoy the delightful scenery, and 
as I felt that this was probably the last time I should 
ever pass along this beautifully shaded road, I was 
silently enjoying the sights and sounds of nature. Sud- 
denly the sound of wheels attracted our attention. In a 
few moments we met a stranger of gentlemanly appear- 
ance, driving a weary-looking horse as if he had traveled 
far. A genteel servant on horseback followed the mas- 
ter's gig. The gentleman passed slowly, acknowledging 
our appearance by a polite touch of his hat. We turned 
involuntarily to look after the passing stranger, and 
found him also looking back at us. Who could it be 
traveling this out-of-the-way road ? ' ' He resembles your 
husband," said Mrs. Branch; "I wonder if he can be a 
relation?" We discussed the matter no further, but on 
our return the next day we found the stranger to be my 
brother-in-law, Mr. Joshua Tevis, on his return to Balti- 
more, from Kentucky. He came through the wilderness 
road that he might make the acquaintance, as he afterwards 
told us, of his brother John's wife. He rendered himself 
very agreeable by a cordial recognition of our relationship. 



270 julia A. Tevis. 

My brother being anxious to see Mother Russell, of 
whose eccentricities he had heard so much, I readily- 
consented to accompany him to her house. That we 
might have an hour to spend with this good old lady, 
and afterwards dine with a relative at the Sulphur Springs, 
we breakfasted at early dawn, and were on our way in 
time to greet the rising sun. We enjoyed greatly this 
reveille of nature, and pitied the indolent sleepers who 
lost the opportunity of drinking in these pure libations 
of the morning. A brisk drive of a few hours brought 
us to the humble dwelling of Mother Russell. Her door 
stood wide open ; no liveried footman announced her 
visitors, though she belonged to one of the wealthiest 
families of the land. We were met upon the threshold 
by her cordial welcome, and, after the introduction of my 
brother-in-law, she exclaimed, "What! another brother 
Tevis? How kind to come eighteen miles just to see a 
plain old woman!" This was heartfelt, and blended with 
the most refined and polite cordiality. There was a 
dignity and gravity that would have graced any drawing- 
room — forbidding alike criticism and familiarity. 

Brother Joshua was charmed, and the conversation 
flowed smoothly onward, touching upon various inter- 
esting topics. Patrick Henry was thoroughly discussed, 
and then she talked of Colonel Campbell, General Rus- 
sell, and other distinguished revolutionists, of whom she 
gave many interesting anecdotes unknown to us before; 
thence, by an easy transition, she introduced the theme 
of religion, and from other denominations proceeded to 
speak of the Methodists. "They are a distinct people, 
brother; disrobing themselves of all worldly honors, they 
seek no popular favor, no splendid vestments of purple 
interwoven with gold, no distinction save that of being 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 271 

the true worshipers of God. How noble is simplicity, 
brother — simplicity of dress as well as manners." My 
brother tried to conceal his linen cambric ruffles, and 
quietly folded his vest over a diamond breast-pin which 
sparkled in the sunlight. "Formerly," she continued, 
"the Methodists were few and scattered, but now they 
have become a great people, and just as far as the human 
foot has trod the soil there's the Methodist." 

An hour had passed; she arose from her seat, and, 
solemnly raising her hands, asked my terrified brother to 
lead in prayer. I declined for him, and the old lady 
prayed herself, mentioning his name first, praying that he 
might have more courage in the performance of his duty, 
and that his mouth might be filled with prayer and 
thanksgiving. Her voice was strong, her prayer solemn 
and impressive, notwithstanding her peculiar manner of 
mentioning, by name, each person for whom she prayed; 
and we arose from our knees full of reverence for this 
remarkable woman. I am sure Joshua never forgot that 
visit of an hour spent within the holy atmosphere of 
this aged Christian's home. After a few more days of 
pleasant intercourse he left us for his home in Baltimore. 

Finally, came the last camp-meeting of the district, 
and, as we were to leave for Kentucky immediately after, 
it was a season of great interest to me. I did not 
remain on the camp-ground, but was hospitably enter- 
tained at the house of an old Baptist friend, Father New- 
land, a most remarkable man, who deserves more than a 
passing notice. He was upwards of ninety, but vigorous 
and active, enjoying a green old age. Both his wife and 
himself reminded me of the primitive Christians. Exhib- 
iting the true spirit of the Gospel, they were not forgetful 
of entertaining strangers, and had a prophet's room ever 



272 Julia A. Tevis. 

ready for the itinerant messengers of grace, of whatever 
denomination. 

At early dawn, after my first night's rest under his 
roof, I was awakened by the t stentorian voice of the 
old patriarch, "O folks, come to prayers! You John, 
Dick, Harry, Lucy, Dinah — come, all come!" Hastily 
dressing and coming down into the family room, I found 
the assembled household, and among them many dusky 
figures, whose ebon)- faces evinced the deepest interest, 
as, with bowed heads, they listened to their master's 
instruction. With distended eyes and reverential wonder 
they heard his comments upon the lesson read from the 
Book of Life. What an example for those more elevated 
in the scale of intelligence. 

The charity of this Christian master for his slaves 
resembled the sun bathing in floods of glory, not only the 
nearest worlds but irradiating light and heat to the 
remotest planet of its system. He read a portion of the 
twelfth chapter of St. Luke, and dwelt particularly upon 
the parable of the rich man, whose grounds brought 
forth plentifully. His occasional parenthetical comments 
ran thus: "Pull down his barns, indeed! Why didn't 
he feed God's poor with the surplus? — wrong, all wrong! 
bad man, didn't deserve to be rich! 'Soul, take thine 
ease.' Fool! talking to his soul like it was a dog or 
cat! Take thine ease! Yes, listen, folks: 'This night 
thy soul shall be required of thee,' — oh, terrible! and 
where did it take its ease? why, in hell-fire, to be sure." 
And then he exhorted all to be faithful servants of God's 
bounty, and closed the service by offering up a short, 
but fervent prayer, master and servant kneeling before 
heaven's eternal King. Then commenced the business 
of the day, everything moving on pleasantly. No jarring 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 273 

string interrupted the harmony of this good old pa- 
triarch's family. After these pious morning exercises 
every worldly duty seemed sanctified. 

Camp-meeting was usually the time selected by all 
the mothers of the country around to have their children 
baptized, making the occasion as public as possible; and 
many thought they could give no greater evidence of 
devotion to the Church, nor evince greater respect and 
esteem for their presiding minister than to give their 
boys his name. I was told recently, by a friend, that my 
husband, while traveling the Holston District, baptized 
not less than twenty at one camp-meeting that were 
named for himself — a severe test, I am sure, of his modest 
humility, and no matter for boasting, for I never heard 
him speak of it. 

.The closing scenes of this meeting, the last we 
attended in Virginia, away off from the busy haunts 
of men, amid the wild and rugged scenery of Wythe 
County, can never be forgotten. Many of the old 
Christians seemed to tread upon the very threshold of 
heaven, their souls holding meet communion with God, 
while many hearts overflowed with rapture unexpressed, 
save in the thrilling hymn and the bursting eloquence of 
sobs and tears. The aged forest bowed its lofty head in 
reverence and waved its trembling arms on high as if to 
join in the general praise to the great Creator. How 
deep the well-spring of eternal love! Oh, that we might 
drink more of these pure waters while on earth! I had 
often heard of that sanctified love, which lifts the soul so 
far above this world as to give it a glimpse of the green 
vales and still waters of that celestial paradise promised 
to the children of God. I doubted it before, I be- 
lieved it then. 



274 Julia A. Tevis. 



Chapter XXII. 

The green glories of Summer were fast fading into 
the sober hues of Autumn when the absent family 
returned to "The Meadows," and the time of our de- 
parture drew near. I longed to go to my Kentucky 
home, but dreaded leaving my Virginia friends. I vis- 
ited again and again each familiar nook and glen — hal- 
lowed spots where I had so often enjoyed a book or 
indulged in those pleasing dreams that creep impercep- 
tibly into the heart and hold the imagination entranced 
in delightful, irresistible delusions, full of rapture, variety, 
and beauty. My footsteps lingered beside the spring- 
brook — the sweetest that "ever sang the sunny hours 
away;" I wandered through the quiet garden, among 
those brilliant Autumn flowers whose rich colors I had 
often admired on the very verge of Winter, and inhaled 
for the last time the aromatic breath of many fragrant 
herbs which I had found here and nowhere else. My 
eyes rested, for the last time, upon the misty ridge in the 
blue distance, up whose rugged sides I should never 
climb again to gather the blooming laurel and the wild 
honeysuckle that looked so lovely in the dancing sun- 
beams, and upon whose brow the daylight loved to linger. 
I knew not, up to the hour of parting, how much it 
would cost me to sever the ties that bound me to my 
Abingdon friends. I particularly regretted that Mary's 
unfinished education must be completed by another, who, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 275 

I feared, would neither understand her capacity nor love 
her as I did. Young as she was, she was capable of the 
strongest attachments. I had been her almost constant 
companion for three years, and had never noticed more 
than a passing shadow cloud her brow ; but now that she 
anticipated a separation for years, and perhaps for life, 
from one whom she had learned to love with a confiding 
affection, she was dissolved in tears and felt a sorrow 
hitherto unknown. 

My mind frequently reverts to Mary and her little 
cousins, coming up to my idea of happy childhood. Their 
voices were the very echo of joyous thoughts. No dark- 
ness pervaded the household that was not dissipated by 
the sweet smiles and merry voices of these lovely children. 

My heart was fully satisfied with the lot I had chosen, 
and perfectly stayed upon ' ' that best earthly friend whom 
God had given me," but my cup of happiness was dashed 
with a taste of bitterness that belongs to this probationary 
state; and, so sorrowful was I at being separated from 
those whose kindness was now like a living picture before 
me, that for the time I could not rejoice in the bright- 
ness of my future prospects. 

Days, months, and years have rolled on, new scenes 
and new situations have occupied my busy mind; but the 
associations, thoughts, and experiences, "linked by a 
hidden chain" to this period of my life, and "lulled in 
the countless chambers of the brain," can never be ob- 
literated. "Awake but one, and, lo ! what myriads 
arise!" A moving panorama of intense interest passes 
in review. Precious forms, that have long rested in the 
deep shadows of the grave, start into life before me pale, 
purified, passionless as the angels of heaven, faces beam- 
ing with love and eyes kindling with spiritual beauty, 



276 Julia A. Tevis. 

hallowed presences inciting me to holier thoughts and 
more fervent aspirations after heaven and immortality. 

Some of my happiest school-vacations were spent 
among" my friends and relatives in Eastern Virginia, and 
some of the most sorrowful as Avell as happiest hours of 
my life were spent in the south-western part of the State 
Thus the name to me, like that of the beloved and 
"beautiful City" to the Jews, is not a mere lifeless ab- 
straction of the head, but a sacred and delightful image 
engraven on the heart. 'Tis the soul that gives tenacity 
to the memory as well as activity to the understanding; 
and hence it is that Virginia rises before me so distinctly 
the morning star of memory. 

I spent no tiresome days packing and repacking. Our 
limited wardrobe, though sufficient for neatness and com- 
fort, was easily stored away in a small trunk which just 
fitted behind the gig, while one still more tiny served me 
as a foot-stool. The gig-box comfortably accommodated 
our few books; thus we had quite enough baggage for 
our mountain journey. 

A few friends accompanied us the first day's journey, 
tarrying all night at Mr. Campbell's, there to bid us a 
second farewell the next morning. 

We looked forward to a journey of three hundred 
miles, but "we dreaded no lion in the way." The light 
of God's countenance was upon us. The first day, how- 
ever, was passed in subdued sadness, mingled with the 
deepest gratitude, little interrupted by conversation. 
Memory reviewed the past, and hope was busy weaving 
golden threads into the web of our future lives. We 
were traveling onward amidst sublime scenery. Mount- 
ains clothed with trees whose gorgeous and many-tinted 
foliage rustled in the Autumn wind. Deep ravines, sil- 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 277 

very streams, chestnut trees loaded with their rich fruit 
just ready for gathering, flinging their shadowy arms far 
out across our pathway, with occasional sprinklings of 
wild flowers by the road-side, the stimulating fragrance 
of pennyroyal and mountain-balm, all seemed combined 
to steep our senses in pleasant thoughtfulnes's. Occasion- 
ally we read while passing slowly over a rocky road, and 
as we traveled on an average only thirty miles a day, we 
had time to enjoy, to the fullest extent, the beauties 
and glories by which we were surrounded. Our brave 
horse bore himself admirably, not appearing wayworn, 
because he was well cared for by his master, who never 
sought his own rest until his horse was properly pro- 
vided for. 

The wilderness through which we passed was sparsely 
settled, yet Mr. Tevis had so often traveled through it 
that he had friends at every stopping-place, making it 
unnecessary for us to travel by night. One very sultry 
day we stopped for dinner at a little wayside tavern, ap- 
parently lost among the mountains, there being no neigh- 
bors within many miles. I passed immediately into an 
inner room for a nap and left Mr. Tevis reading in the 
vine-covered porch, at one end of which was the bar- 
room, the rendezvous of all straggling guests. 

I was soon aroused from my light slumbers by a rough 
voice uttering the most blasphemous oaths in conversa- 
tion with his fellows; and then I heard my husband speak. 
Listening in breathless silence to his pointed reproof and 
solemn admonitions to this profane swearer, my heart 
sank within me for fear of a difficulty in this lonely place. 
The ruffian, however, made no reply; he seemed dumb 
with astonishment. My terror may well be imagined, 
when, called to dinner, I saw a great, rough-looking man, 



278 Julia A. Tevis. 

a perfect Anak, with a shock of fiery red hair, and eyes 
as fierce as burning volcanoes, come in and seat him- 
self just opposite me. He ate but little; and, though 
with trembling anxiety, I showed him more than ordinary 
politeness. He answered in monosyllables, and was con- 
tinually glancing from under his shaggy brows at Mr. 
Tevis, who maintained the greatest composure without 
bestowing on him a word or a look. As we arose from 
the table I could have screamed in an agony of fear, had 
I dared, as I saw him take hold of my husband's arm, 
saying, "Will you walk a piece with me, stranger?" 
"Certainly, sir," was the reply. They were gone more 
than twenty minutes — it seemed an hour to me — when 
I saw them returning, apparently in friendly conversation. 

Our carriage was at the door, and, as we stepped into 
it, the man, standing at our horse's head, said, as he gave 
us a parting wave of his hand, "God bless you, sir, and 
madam; I wish you a safe journey; I shall never forget." 

I learned, to my astonishment, that he not only felt 
the admonition so solemnly given, but took occasion to 
satisfy his conscience by telling Mr. Tevis that he had a 
pious, widowed mother, from whom he had been separ- 
ated many years, who had taught him in early life to read 
the Bible and reverence his Creator. These instructions 
had long slumbered in waveless silence, but the words, 
that day "spoken in season," had stirred the very depths 
of his soul and brought back the sweet memories of his 
early childhood, and he said, "God being his helper, he 
would not only strive to profit by the advice given, but 
become a praying man and a Bible-reader." 

That same day, winding up the mountain road, we 
met, at a most inconvenient place for passing, a wagon 
and team driven by as surly-looking a fellow as ever 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 279 

cracked a whip. He bawled out, prefacing what he had 
to say with a vulgar oath, "Get out of the way with 
that 'ar consarn of your'n ; my leader 's not goin' to pass 
it ! Get out of the way or I '11 pitch you to the bottom 
of never," casting his eyes, as he spoke, down a preci- 
pice which seemed almost fathomless. My heart beat 
audibly as I seized Mr. Tevis's arm and earnestly begged 
him not to reply. The ruffian evidently expected a diffi- 
culty, for he stopped and rolled up his sleeves; but we 
both bowed politely as our vehicle was turned aside. The 
man was astonished, evidently touched, for he muttered, 
as he returned our salutation, "Well, now, you see, I 
didn't mean to be cross, but hang me if my horses ain't 
scared now at that queer thing you 're ridin' in ; see how 
my leader throws back his ears!" His wolfishness was 
literally broken down, showing that silence as well as a 
soft answer turneth away wrath. He actually turned his 
head to look after and warn us of a bad place in the road, 
wishing us a pleasant journey. I doubted not some good 
seed was sown in his heart; thus the golden opportunity 
was not lost. 

We traveled several days through some of the wildest 
scenery, and some of the most unfrequented portions of 
our whole country, rarely seeing a plowed field or a 
cultivated spot; but hill and dale, mountain and valley, 
with an occasional dwelling surrounded by trees dressed 
in the gay and bright livery of Autumn. Our hearts, 
swelling with admiration, acknowledged the beneficence 
of the Creator of this world, so full of grace, elegance, 
and sublimity. 

That same night darkness curtained the hills before 
we reached the place where we expected to tarry, and 
we were fain to check up our weary horse before a very 



280 Julia A. Tevis. 

uncomfortable looking dwelling. Numerous white-headed 
urchins met us at the threshold looking as wild as little 
Arabs. One girl about ten years old was lugging a great 
baby on her hip, as she hopped along after me with 
wondering eyes, trying to carry some of my luggage into 
the only room below, where we found a good looking 
old man sitting by a bright fire, the most cheerful thing 
to be seen. He called out to the girl "to take that 'ar 
baby," which was fretting and screaming at a tremendous 
rate, "to its mammy." "She won't take it, she's got 
to git something for the strangers to eat, and she '11 
whip me if I go back." A few broken chairs, a family 
bed, and a deal table constituted the furniture of this 
parlor, dining-room, chamber and hall; not even a Yankee 
clock ticked behind the door. 

Supper was soon announced, and I sat down with a 
good appetite to rye coffee, stewed rabbit and biscuit, but 
alas ! it was soon cut short by finding a dirty yarn string 
in the first biscuit I opened. Not wishing to interrupt 
Mr. Tevis' supper, I turned silently away from the table, 
only to find the mischievous little imps in my work 
basket. Spools, silk, tape, etc., were tumbled out pell-mell 
on the floor, one spool being entirely denuded of its thread. 
"Look 'ere, 'oman," cried a little five-year-old, "what 
a nice whirl i-gig this yere is!" The mother soon flew 
to my assistance, shook and boxed them all around, 
flinging one into a corner and another on the bed, leav- 
ing me to gather up as best I could my goods and 
chattels. 

At my request she took a candle and showed me up a 
rickety stairway into our sleeping apartments, so near the 
broken roof that the stars peeped through without let or 
hinderance. A dirt)- patch-work quilt covered the bed, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 281 

under which were two blue yarn sheets. What was to be 
done ? I could not even touch the bed until I had spread 
a clean pocket handkerchief for my face, and improvised 
a pair of sheets from some clean clothes in my trunk. 
And this was a regular stopping place for travelers ! 
"Entertainment for man and beast!" The morning sun 
found the wayworn travelers on their way to seek a 
breakfast ten miles ahead, with some Methodist friends 
well known for their hospitality and excellent fare. 

The day that closed our journey through the wilder- 
ness and marked our entrance into the settlements of 
Kentucky is memorable. Late in the afternoon we 
reached a solitary mansion standing in the midst of green 
fields, and in the center of a large yard rilled with forest 
trees. The soft shadows of approaching night were in- 
vesting everything with a mysterious thoughtfulness. The 
house stood about half a mile from a deep mountain 
gorge, through which we did not like to pass after night- 
fall, and as there was no other house within ten miles, 
we proposed to spend the night here. Our request was 
refused upon the plea that there was no room for us. 
The yard was full of people as a wedding was to take 
place that evening, and we two poor solitary wayfarers 
with our little gig and horse could not stay; "it was 
moonlight, we need not fear," they said, "and we could 
be better accommodated at the next stopping place." 
In vain we entreated, urging the weariness of our horse 
and his unfitness to tread the rocky road before him. One 
of the bystanders whispered, with a knowing wink at Mr. 
Tevis, that there was to be a dance; the broad brim and 
straight coat would be in the way. The rights of hos- 
pitality to strangers could not be exercised at this place 
at the expense of pleasure. My heart sank within me at 



282 Julia A. Tevis. 

the prospect of passing several hours en rotite through 
that lonely ravine; but my husband, in whose piety and 
prayers I firmly believed, and my never failing faith in 
God's protecting providence, quieted my fears as onward 
we went. 

Already the drowsy tinkling bell was heard, as the 
sheep-boy whistling leisurely followed his flock to the 
fold, admonishing us to hasten. The last rays of the 
setting sun had vanished, the rocks, and dells, and se- 
cluded places began to darken in the glow of twilight; 
but in a short time the beams of a full moon, reflected 
from the gigantic cliffs and distant tree tops, silvered 
every object they touched, mellowing, softening, spiritu- 
alizing the realities around us into airy creations. The 
winds were asleep and the moonlight glanced and shim- 
mered through the trees that clothed the steep sides of 
the mountain up to the topmost battlements. 

The road was over the bed of a shallow stream which 
passed all the way through the gorge, seeming to issue 
from some exhaustless source, the ripple growing louder 
as the stillness of the night increased. The horse's hoofs 
struck against the pebbly bottom of the mountain stream, 
the valley rang with the echo, and we caught the faint 
return made by the more distant hills. The softness and 
beauty of this moonlight night, combined with the mysteri- 
ous wildness of the scenery, made glorious revelations to 
our devotional hearts ; yes, sweet and solemn revelations 
through light and shade, with prophetic intimations of 
the still brighter glories that lie beyond, reminding me 
now of those beautiful lines: 

"Man is a pilgrim, spirit clothed in flesh, 
And tented in the wilderness of time ; 
His native place is near the eternal throne, 
And his Creator, God." 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 283 

The works of God never appear so exquisitely beau- 
tiful as amidst silence and solitude. 

About the hour of ten, as we slowly issued from the 
deep valley, a light greeted our eyes from the window of 
a modest dwelling, which we afterward learned was kept 
burning there all night for the benefit of travelers emerg- 
ing from this dark gorge. The noise of our carriage- 
wheels wakened the kind host even before we knocked. 
A good supper, a comfortable bed, and then a dreamless 
sleep until awakened in the morning by the industrious 
family, rendered us oblivious of yesterday's troubles. We 
were called to breakfast soon after daylight, and before 
sunrise were again on our way. 

Mr. Tevis prayed with our hospitable entertainers be- 
fore leaving. This he never failed to do night and morn- 
ing wherever we stayed, among friends or strangers. It 
was, indeed, the general custom of the early Methodist 
preachers to ask this privilege if not invited. Mr. Tevis 
never spent an hour on a visit without praying with the 
family if circumstances permitted; and yet he was neither 
officious nor presumptuous. Noted for that true polite- 
ness that springs from the heart, he never deviated from 
the strictest sense of propriety with regard to others; 
hence his reproofs, in or out of season, did not give 
offense. 

Neither the pen of a ready writer nor the brush of an 
Italian painter could give even a faint idea of that Sep- 
tember morning. The glorious orb of day announced his 
coming by gradually gilding the Eastern sky and touch- 
ing the dark green foliage of the wilderness with his rays 
of light, gently drawing aside the curtain of the night, 
that his beams might fall slowly and softly upon the face 
of the sleeping earth, till her eyelids opened and she went 



284 Julia A. Tevis. 

forth again to her labor until the evening. We seemed 
on the verge of a new world — a world of light and glory. 
We inhaled new life from the dewy freshness of the balmy 
atmosphere as we sped rapidly along into the thickly- 
settled portions of the State. White clouds and great 
woodlands and purple crests of far-off hills floated into 
the golden atmosphere of the enchanting scene. The vol- 
uptuous earth, brimming with ecstasy, poured out songs 
and odors, leaves like fluttering wings flashed light, and 
blades of grass grew tremulous with joy. Tranquilizing 
and gentle emotions, stealing on us unawares, filled our 
souls with peace, pleasant harbingers of days to come. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 285 



Chapter XXIII. 

Our first night, spent among Kentucky relatives, was 
in the large old family mansion of Mrs. Robert 
Tevis, near Richmond, Madison County. I was struck 
with the beauty of the widely-extended lawn in front of 
the house, shaded with splendid old forest trees flinging 
their shadows far out upon the soft sward; the branches 
lifted and fell with a fanning motion to the evening 
breeze; and, here and there, a bird was singing her fare- 
well to the sun as we passed over the stile. 

I have often wondered why people in the West either 
select a building spot where there are no trees, or else 
cut down the natural growth and plant stunted evergreens 
all about their dwellings. The grounds around this place 
presented a beautiful contrast, reminding one of some old 
baronial residence, so frequently described in English 
books. The beauty of departed Summer still shone on 
garden and meadow, draping in gorgeous splendor the 
whole landscape. The woodland pastures of blue grass 
were green enough to be refreshing to the eye, while the 
adjacent forest was one mingled mass of orange, brown, 
and crimson; and the coral berry of the mountain ash 
gleamed brightly among the fading leaves. 

Mrs. Tevis was a true type of widowhood. Her soft 
brown eyes were filled with tears as she embraced me; 
and her sweet, quiet face, seen beneath her modest cap, 
I often call to remembrance. From all that I saw and 
afterwards heard, she possessed an angelic spirit. The 

l 9 



286 Julia A. Tevis. 

light of a heavenly hope beamed in her eye — a hope 
brought from her closet. She made God her salvation, 
and to her was the promise, "With joy shalt thou draw 
water out of the wells of salvation." She had suffered 
much from bereavements, and her soul was doubtless 
purified "as by fire." And of what avail is affliction if 
it does not soften and purify the heart? Why are those 
called blessed that mourn, if it is not that they learn the 
bitter lesson that grief alone can teach? 

Our friends would gladly have detained us several 
days. Finding we could not tarry now, they urged us to 
return at some convenient season. Our hearts said, Yes, 
but circumstances never rendered it practicable. In after 
years, however, the bond of friendly relationship was 
renewed and strengthened by my having many of her 
grandchildren in my school. 

With a bounding heart and excited imagination, I 
continued my journey the next day. Before another 
sunset I should see all I held most dear on earth, to- 
gether. We did not stop to dine. Thus, early in the 
afternoon, we entered the woodlands of my uncle's farm. 
My eyes wandered continually in search of some familiar 
spot of my child-life. A sudden turn in the road brought 
into view the round-topped sugar-tree, "whose brow in 
loft)- grandeur rose," crowned with a magnificent dome 
of emerald leaves, tinged with the rich hues of Autumn; 
here and there a ray of sunshine strayed through some 
crevice in the thick foliage, casting a golden light upon 
the dark green moss beneath. 

I hailed the old patriarch with delight, sacredly asso- 
ciated in memory with my childhood's home, a guiding 
star in former days to the wandering hunter. It rose far 
above the heads of its forest brethren, and was the com- 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 287 

pass by which land navigators steered their course through 
the tangled cane-brake and the dreary wilderness, and it 
still stands — 1864 — the cynosure of all the surrounding 
settlement. I gazed on it with tearful eyes, and thought 
how, as a merry-hearted child, I had played around its 
base; and an involuntary pang darted through my heart 
as I remembered the many loving faces I should now miss 
from my father-land. 

Most of the old landmarks had been swept away; the 
pawpaw bushes were gone; the double line of cherry- 
trees that formed an avenue from grandfather's to my 
Uncle Gholson's white cottage on the hill, under which I 
had so often stood holding up my little check apron to 
receive the clustering cherries thrown down by brothers 
and cousins, were no longer there. A slight shower in 
the forenoon had filled the woods with fragrance, and the 
pattering raindrops, occasionally falling from the over- 
hanging branches, sparkled like diamonds on the tufted 
grass by the wayside. Chirping birds hopped blithely 
among the trees, as if loath to leave their Summer home, 
while they could enjoy the sweet breeze that wooed them 
with kisses as it slightly ruffled their glossy feathers. 

A wizard spell is thrown around the spot where child- 
hood played. Olden visions, "faintly sweet," passed 
before me, and dream)- reveries invested my soul with a 
mysterious joy. There was the same old stile to be crossed 
before we could enter the yard, even then covered with 
a living green as soft and rich as in midsummer. There 
was the quaint old brick house, the first of the kind ever 
built in Kentucky, with its projecting gables, and its 
ample door standing wide open to welcome the coming 
guest; and soon there came a rush of children across the 
yard, and I was almost smothered with kisses by the dear 



288 Julia A. Tevis. 

little ones that looked shyly at the tall stranger standing 
beside me. I reached the doorstep, and was encircled in 
my mother's arms, her tears falling like raindrops as she 
folded me again and again to her heart. In the old fam- 
ily room many were waiting, who greeted us with the 
greatest cordiality, making our advent joyous indeed. 

The next day, the news being spread throughout the 
neighborhood, a numerous delegation of uncles, aunts, 
and cousins came to welcome and invite us to partake 
of their hospitality. The family tree, transplanted from 
Virginia to Kentucky soil, had lost neither beauty nor 
glory. Its branches were widespread and flourishing, 
and from its roots had sprung a thousand ramifications, 
whence arose many a "roof-tree," affording shelter and 
protection to wayworn travelers and homeless wanderers. 

Kentucky, garden - spot of the earth, where bloom- 
ing beauty scatters flowers through the valley and 
clothes the hills with verdure, — how I loved thee then, 
dear native soil! how I rejoiced in thy smiles after an 
absence of twenty years! And how deeply, fervently, I 
love thee now, after a residence of fifty years among thy 
people, and in one of thy most favored spots! I have 
looked with heartfelt gratitude upon thy broad fields of 
golden maize, traversed with pride and pleasure thy far- 
famed blue -grass regions, gazed upon thy stupendous 
river cliffs, and wandered through the mysterious sound- 
ings of thy Mammoth Cave, with one whose affectionate 
heart ever vibrated in unison with my own. 

My eyes wandered around the best room in search 
of some familiar objects. The same old clock stood in 
the corner, ticking its "ever, forever," as regularly as of 
old; and, near by, the little square table, with its deep 
drawer, in which my grandmother kept the cakes, baked 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 289 

every Saturday afternoon for the children that generally 
came with their parents to dine on Sunday. The wide- 
open fireplace brought to mind the "yule log," Christ- 
mas fires, and Winter cotton picking. I could almost 
see the little woolly headed cotton-gins of olden times, 
each with a fleecy heap of cotton before him from which 
to separate the seed, and sundry little grandchildren 
plying their nimble fingers in the same manner, grand- 
mother superintending the whole, — the click of her knit- 
ting-needles, meantime, as uninterrupted as the ticking 
of the • clock. Our tasks done, cakes, nuts, etc., were 
distributed, and then followed a game of romps, which 
my grandfather enjoyed as much as the children! and he 
could laugh as loud and long as any of us. 

I recalled old Uncle Billy Bush, of Indian memory, 
who lived near by and frequently formed one of the 
merry group, chasing us about the room with his cane. 
How we all loved to see his ruddy face, so full of intelli- 
gence and good humor, a lurking jest ever in his eye, and 
and a smile about the corner of his mouth, with a voice 
loud enough to hail a ship at sea without the aid of a 
speaking-trumpet! It was wonderfully rich, too, har- 
monizing admirably with his blunt, jovial face; and this 
warm, rosy scene generally closed with an exciting Indian 
story, in which Daniel Boone figured as well as himself. 

During our stay here we spent one charming day with 
"Aunt Franky Billy," the widow of this old uncle, so 
called to distinguish her from another Aunt Franky, and 
noted for her good housewifery, as well as her bound- 
less hospitality. Simple-hearted, right-minded, and pious, 
she was loved by all who knew her. So free from self- 
ishness, so liberal, so every thing a nice old lady ought 
to be, — what a pleasure it was to see her still presiding 



290 Julia A. Tevis. 

at her own table, abundantly spread with all that could 
minister to the most delicate taste, or satisfy the most 
craving hunger. Indeed, her children sometimes ex- 
pressed a fear that she would cram some poor wayfaring 
traveler to death with her good things. 

Upon this occasion she received me with a heart full 
of love, and testified her honest affection for ' ' Cousin 
July Ann's" husband by proffering, with modest polite- 
ness, the various dishes and savory viands of her bountiful 
table — all the time apologizing for the meager fare, 
and thinking nothing good enough for us. We would 
gladly have remained for weeks with our kind rela- 
tions, but could only spend a few days; and of the thir- 
teen widow Bushes in the immediate neighborhood we 
visited only two. 

Before leaving, it was definitely arranged that my 
mother should come to Shelbyville in the Spring, pur- 
chase a comfortable house, and malce it her permanent 
residence. Here, too, we expected to locate our school. 
We left early Monday morning, and were now to travel 
through the celebrated "blue-grass region," represented 
as ever "bathed in golden dawns or purple sunsets dying 
on the horizon — the great blue canopy of heaven droop- 
ing over all like a dream." This, too, was the land 
illustrated by a thousand scenes as picturesque as they 
were significant; where, in solitary and rudely constructed 
forts, that strange, old, rude, poetical, colonial life had 
gone on. Brave men had struggled, breast to breast, 
and contended fearfully with the wild beasts that roamed 
in multiplied thousands over the land. Through a lovely 
grove we entered the main road leading to Lexington. 
The air was soft, balmy, genial, the sky of that delicate 
azure which gives relief to the rich beauty of the earth, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 291 

glowing all around with the ripe, mellow tints of Sep- 
tember — the finest combination of trees and shrubs, the 
rarest effects of form and foliage, bewildering the eye 
with recesses apparently interminable. A subtle fra- 
grance, developed by the night dews, floated in the air; 
the lulling music of the branches, swayed by the gentle 
breath of morning with all these hallowed influences, 
reminded us, by association, of life's perpetual changes — 
types of our restless world ; while the heavens above, so 
holy and tranquil, spoke to the heart of that rest prepared 
for the faithful, where no changes like those of earth 
ever come. 

Our horse, too, appeared to feel the beauty of the 
scenery, for he walked slowly along the highway, snuffing 
the fragrance of the sweet-scented meadow land, over 
which roamed flocks and herds — an Arcadian scene of 
great beauty. Every step of the road I was contrasting 
the past with the present. Instead of the bounding deer, 
the dark forest and the rudely-built log house, white 
dwellings gleamed through clustering shade trees. The 
approach to Lexington was through a leafy labyrinth 
leading imperceptibly to a slight elevation, from whence 
we had the first view of the town, with its mass of roofs 
and chimneys peeping through the trees. There were no 
magnificent dwellings, and there was no architectural 
display in churches ; but brick houses, low-roofed cot- 
tages, with here and there a mansion of more hospitable 
dimensions. The town was surrounded by woodlands, 
interspersed with bright green meadows, edging off on 
every side into fields, orchards, and farms; and in the 
distance were shadowy hills, indicating the vicinity of the 
Kentucky River. 

And this was Lexington, the aristocratic town of the 



292 Julia A. Tevis. 

West, of which I had heard so much ! The early chroni- 
clers state that it stands on the site of an ancient city of 
great extent and magnificence. Tradition says there 
once existed a catacomb, formed in the limestone rock, 
fifteen feet below the surface of the earth, discovered by 
the early settlers, whose curiosity was excited by the 
appearance of the stones which covered the entrance to a 
cavern. Removing these stones they entered the mouth 
of a cave, apparently deep, gloomy, and terrific. They 
were deterred by their apprehensions from attempting a 
full exploration, but found, at no great distance from the 
entrance, niches occupied by mummies preserved by the 
art of embalming, in as perfect a state as any found in 
Egypt. The descent to this cave was gradual; and, by 
calculation, after proceeding as far into it as they dared, 
it was supposed to be large enough to contain three 
thousand bodies ; and who knows, says the historian, but 
they were embalmed by the same race of men that built 
the pyramids? If not, how shall the mystery be solved? 
The North American Indians were never known to 
construct catacombs for their dead, or to be acquainted 
with the art of embalming. The custom is purely 
Egyptian, and was practiced in the earliest ages of their 
national existence. The whites who discovered these 
mummies, indignant at the outrages committed by the 
Indians, and supposing this cave to be a burial place for 
their dead, dragged out the bodies, tore off the bandages, 
and made a general bonfire of these antiquities — perhaps 
the oldest in the world. 

Progress in refinement is necessarily connected with 
the prosperity of a civilized country, and we might natu- 
rally have expected to find some specimens of the arts 
and sciences, exhibited in splendidly decorated edifices, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 293 

borrowed from the classic taste of Greece, in this town of 
Lexington, which was certainly not built yesterday, in 
keeping with Dickens's view of every town he saw in the 
United States. The first inhabitants had the good sense 
to see that nothing artificial could improve in form or 
beauty the sublime works of the Creator, which in de- 
sign, color, light, and shade, form perfect pictures in the 
human eye. They erected plain, comfortable dwellings, 
in the vicinity of which were profusely scattered the 
beech, the spotted sycamore, the stately poplar, and the 
graceful elm, whose outer branches drooped with garland- 
like richness; and the locust was so abundant as to form, 
at intervals, a mimic forest. 

The Lexington of 1824, with its enchanting scenes 
of pastoral beauty left a picture on my memory that 
remains fresh after the lapse of fifty years. I have vis- 
ited it at different seasons since, and, though divested of 
its wild luxuriance of natural scenery, it was still, with 
its surroundings, the Eden of Kentucky. In the Spring, 
a paradise of loveliness ; in the Summer, rich in its abun- 
dance and glorious in its regal robes; in the Autumn, 
when the dim haze of the departing year hung like a 
pall over its magnificent woodlands ; and, in the Winter, 
when the Summer birds had left their withered homes 
and gone to seek a sunnier clime, when the rich flowers 
had perished, and the blossoms of the valley had found a 
grave upon the scentless soil that gave them birth, 
sublimity still clung to it like a garment. 

The principal street, teeming with foot passengers and 
carriages, showed that the life-blood of a busy population 
throbbed healthily and steadily. Kind looks met us in 
every direction, and the music of cheerful voices fell 
pleasantly upon the ear. As we did not intend to tarry 



294 Julia A. Tevis. 

in town, we drove on till we reached a modest looking 
house of entertainment in the suburbs, where we stopped 
for refreshment and to rest our horse for an hour or two. 
In the vine-covered porch sat the landlord, almost as 
large as a prize ox, and as jovial looking as Falstaff him- 
self. We were ushered into a pleasant sitting-room, 
whence I soon retreated into an adjoining apartment in 
search of my usual nap before dinner. As the door 
opened into the room occupied by Mr. Tevis and the 
landlord, I was kept awake by the following dialogue. 
Mine host began, — 

"Been traveling long, sir?" 

"Several days," was the reply. 

"Got far to go yet?" 

"Not very" — a long silence. 

"Stranger in these parts, sir?" 

"Not altogether." 

"The lady with you a relation?" 

"Yes, sir;" another silence, my husband meanwhile 
reading diligently. 

"Ahem! that lady's your cousin, I suppose?" 

No reply. 

"Well, sir, won't you take a drink of prime old 
Cognac?" and suiting the action to the invitation he rose 
and took a bottle from the closet. "I allers takes a 
drink afore dinner, and I never charges travelers for a 
drink or so, specially as I drinks with them," then he 
laughed loudly. 

"Thank you," said Mr. Tevis, "I never drink spirits 
of any kind." 

"What! not before dinner? Well, I does." He 
turned up the bottle and drank from it long and largely. 
"Well, sir, as I was a-sayin', that lady 's your cousin, I 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 295 

'spose ; but she favors you mightily, and may be she 's 
your sister." 

No answer. 

(Desperately). "I say, mister/ is she your sister, or 
your cousin, or your aunt?" 

" Neither, sir." 

"Well, if I may be so bold, what is your name, and 
who is she?" 

"My name is Tevis, and the lady is my wife," which 
laconic reply stopped further questioning. 

Dinner was announced ; and as I met the old brandy- 
bottle with his red-hot nose face to face, I could scarcely 
refrain from laughing outright. We were introduced to 
a tidy little body sitting at the head of the table — the 
ewe-lamb of this great, good-humored, talkative giant — 
his wife ! She was as refined and gentle in her man- 
ners as he was coarse and ignorant. How astonishingly 
ill-assorted ! 

After dinner we traveled several miles under the shade 
of overarching trees. It was a calm, pleasant evening, 
and night brought us to the house of a kind Methodist 
friend, where my husband had often found a resting-place 
while traveling the Lexington Circuit, ten years before. 
We were received with great kindness, and I was an 
object of special attention, the good lady almost smoth- 
ering me with kisses. She was the sister of brother 
Cooper, of Lexington. Sleep was a stranger to my eye- 
lids during that night, — I was thinking of the next day, 
which would terminate our journey, when my weary feet, 
no longer drifting about in search of solid footing, would 
find a permanent, life-long resting-place. Our ten days' 
lonely journey had made us both feel that each would 
strengthen the other in the performance of life's serious 



296 Julia A. Tevis. 

duties, and that our pleasures would be doubled by like 
sentiments and unity of purpose; yet our natural dispo- 
sitions were dissimilar in many respects. I was laughter- 
loving, and at times cheerful, almost to levity; he always 
grave, — yet there was no gloom in that gravity. In- 
herently of a lofty and generous nature, his face haunted 
with earnest thought, he seemed eminently fitted to check 
the too great exuberance of my own spirits. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 297 



Chapter XXIV. 

rFIHE morning star was shining in a cloudless sky of 
-*- deepest azure when, after partaking of a hastily pre- 
pared breakfast, we bade adieu to our hospitable enter- 
tainers and were on our way to Shelbyville, expecting 
to arrive there late in the afternoon, as the weather was 
fine and the roads in an excellent condition. A heavy 
dew, touched by the frost, stood glistening on every blade 
of grass, and the mist, gradually vanishing as the sun 
rose higher, presented, as we moved onwards, a shifting 
scenery of beautiful landscapes, that would have enrap- 
tured the eye of a Claude Lorraine. 

The wild grape, winding its pliant vine among, and 
clinging tenaciously to, the branches, flung leafy garlands 
from stem to stem, while the grapes hung in large purple 
clusters, tempting the hand of the traveler. 

Towards noon we ascended a gentle acclivity, from 
whence, at the distance of a mile, we saw Shelbyville, 
situated on a broken ridge, embowered in foliage, washed 
on every side except the west by a creek, which at that 
time was a deep stream appropriately called "Clear 
Creek." Just as we emerged from the covered bridge 
we met my husband's youngest brother on horseback, 
who had come out to escort us to the house of a mar- 
ried brother, where many friends awaited us. 

The Annual Conference, with its mighty mustering 
of the tribe of Levi, was in session. My husband, now 



298 Julia A. Tevis. 

a member of this body, was cordially greeted by the 
preachers, many of Avhom were old friends. It was a 
time of unmingled pleasure and happiness. 

In the afternoon, a drive of two miles brought us to 
our father's farm, our home, until we could prepare for 
house-keeping in the Spring. Quite a bevy of relatives 
and friends were gathered there also. We were met at 
the gate by "father," a venerable-looking man, his head 
white with the snows of seventy Winters, but with a com- 
plexion as hale, a step as firm and elastic, as if in the 
meridian of life. He wore the costume of '76. Bright 
shoe-buckles, highly-polished shoes, long stockings, knee 
breeches with silver buckles, a long buff waistcoat, round 
coat and straight collar, brought up the memory of olden 
times. His benevolent countenance, smiling all over, 
and a cordial kiss, won my heart immediately. Then 
came "mother," whose equally affectionate reception 
made me love her at once, and that love never grew cold 
by a more intimate acquaintance. The simplicity of her 
dress was in perfect keeping with her husband's costume, 
attractive, yet without any attempt to imitate modern 
style. A plain gown of dark "stuff," a neat linen inside 
handkerchief, whose square collar of snowy whiteness re- 
lieved the dark dress, a handsome black shawl, pinned 
over so as to meet in front, and a bobinet cap, the plaited 
border trimmed with narrow thread-lace edging. A little 
in the background, and modestly awaiting our approach, 
was Aunt Nancy, my husband's maiden and maternal 
aunt, of whose exalted piety I had heard so much. She 
was tall and dignified, with a thin, pale face, and evi- 
dently past the age of sixty. A singular adherence to 
the Methodist costume of forty years before rendered her 
appearance attractive, a style which must have had the 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 299 

effect to conceal much of her beauty in youth, but suited 
exactly her present age; and, as it never could have been 
at any time fashionable, had the advantage of never look- 
ing old-fashioned. I had often heard Mr. Tevis speak of 
her fervent but unostentatious zeal in serving God, and 
how, at the early age of seventeen, when it was no small 
sacrifice in a worldly point of view to become a Method- 
ist, she and one of her sisters, divesting themselves of 
every weight that might impede their progress in a relig- 
ious life, setting their slaves free, as required, had reso- 
lutely attached themselves to the then despised people 
called Methodists. The sister married a local preacher, 
but Aunt Nancy, declining many eligible offers, remained 
single. She did not think it wrong to marry, but felt that 
she could serve God better as she was. Like Anna, the 
prophetess, she did serve him from her youth upwards, 
and worshiped in the temple with fasting and prayer. 
Open in word and deed, with an uncompromising direct- 
ness and singleness of purpose, it would have been as 
easy to turn the sun from off its course as this noble 
Christian woman from the path of duty. These three, 
with Cousin Ruth, formed the household. The last men- 
tioned, though forty years old, was an unsophisticated 
child in character, thought, and feeling. She, too, was 
ready with her welcome for "John's wife." Being deaf 
and partially dumb, she seemed surprised to see so many 
tears shed upon the occasion that she had anticipated 
joyously. 

Aunt and Uncle Sherman were there; also two other 
cousins, Matilda and Harriet Crow, both of whom became 
so dear to me by a more intimate acquaintance that I can 
not forbear introducing them to my reader. They were 
among the sweetest personifications of that pure and 



300 Julia A. Tevis. 

undefiled religion which our Savior "went about to teach." 
Both were attired quaintly in garments of the same color, 
and with that Quaker simplicity remarkable for closeness 
and quietness, with an entire absence of pretension which 
veils, but does not conceal, the most refined elegance, 
setting off, with exquisite taste, the finest forms. Both 
wore simple caps of snowy whiteness, but too transparent 
to hide the silver threads which time was busily weaving 
among the glossy brown hair of their youthful days. 
Cousin Matilda, upon whose quiet brow the passing waves 
of fifty years had scarce left a wrinkle, had an air of dig- 
nity mingled with peculiar sweetness. Her face, uncom- 
monly fair, was lighted up by a pair of sparkling gray 
eyes, yet corresponding with the gentle manner which 
often awakened an enthusiasm, rendered more charming 
by the impulse of her quick, ardent spirit. Her counte- 
nance, when in repose, reminded one of an alabaster vase, 
not displaying the graceful designs on its surface until 
lighted from within ; so, when excited by feeling, and 
during the flood-tide of emotion, aspects unseen and un- 
known before were revealed in great beauty. Cousin 
Harriet's passionless face, across which no worldly shadow 
ever flitted, was rendered inexpressibly touching by the 
holy light which ever dwelt in her deep, thoughtful eyes. 
She looked and acted as one who felt the "littleness" of 
time and the vastness of eternity. The sweet tones of 
her voice vibrate even now through the chambers of 
memory as I dwell upon her excellences. I have watched 
her in the performance of her missions of love and mercy 
as, with a nursing tenderness, she soothed the sick and 
suffering, settled the snowy pillow for the aching head, ' 
handed the cup of cool water and whispered words of 
comfort, and, when in the stillness of the solem midnight 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 301 

hour, with noiseless step she flitted by me, clothed in 
pure white, I have thought "of such is the kingdom of 
heaven." The allurements of the world had been counted 
and resigned by this angelic woman, and a dove-like 
peace had settled on her soul. A pleading eloquence in 
her very looks fondly urged those whose hearts were full 
of sublunary bliss to seek a better portion. 

The two sisters were seldom separated, and spent 
much of their time at father's during the five months of 
my stay there. Frequently, when listening to their soft 
voices singing in low, pleasant tones the touching hymns 
of Charles Wesley, I was transported for the moment to 
the very verge of heaven. More than thirty years have 
elapsed. I have passed through many vicissitudes, but 
neither life's storms nor its calms have banished from my 
heart those pleasant memories. These two well-beloved 
cousins, whose mutual lives were so closely bound to- 
gether, stand out in full relief among others of that fam- 
ily-group in the beautiful picture — 

"It is in the twilight hour, 
The time when memory lingers 

Across life's dreary track, 
When the past floats up before us, 

And the lost comes stealing back," 

that I sit in the family room, father on the right, his 
white hair gleaming like a crown of glory; mother sitting 
at her work-table, her genial face gladdening all within 
the sphere of its influence; the sisters, with their needle- 
work; Aunt Nancy knitting, and Cousin Ruth, with her 
solemn eyes, showing that though the ear offered to her 
no medium of communication, the soul, in some mysteri- 
ous way, held intercourse with the outer world. 

Cousin Ruth was one of those remarkable illustrations 

of the benevolence of our Heavenly Father in compen- 

20 



302 Julia A. Tevis. 

sating for the loss of one sense by the increased suscep- 
tibility of cultivation in others. To our eyes she seemed 
but a drop falling away from the ocean of existence, 
unperceived and disregarded by the great mass. "Little 
and unknown" as she was, however, the great God loved, 
and, in his rich provision, had not forgotten her. She 
had learned to talk when a child, before she lost her 
hearing, which occurred, suddenly, when about five or 
six years of age, and without any known cause except 
standing under the dripping eaves of a house whence the 
cold rain fell, drop by drop, upon her head. She- heard 
well and talked sweetly in the early morning on one well 
remembered April day; at night she was entirely deaf; 
and as she never recovered her hearing, soon lost the 
power of communicating by words. Her enunciation 
became less and less distinct, until finally she ceased 
trying to express herself except in monosyllables; but 
her voiceless language, so mysterious to strangers, was 
perfectly understood by the family. She acquired by 
practice a variety of intelligible gestures, and it was 
interesting to watch her in her long conversations with 
mother who understood her best of all. She possessed 
the power of hearing sound through a good conducting 
medium, and delighted to put a wooden pencil between 
her teeth, one end resting upon the sound-board of a 
piano. In this way she heard the harmonious sounds 
distinctly. There were no institutions for the deaf and 
dumb in our country when she was a child; but so care- 
fully had she been trained by her excellent aunt, that she 
possessed not only ordinary intelligence, but quick per- 
ceptions and the greatest sense of propriety. The simple 
loveliness of temper and disposition in this child of 
nature made her a general favorite. I doubt if any one 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 303 

ever looked into her wide open, serious eyes without 
feeling that they were the windows of a thinking soul. 
I have seen her sit for hours quietly knitting, without 
appearing to notice any thing around her; yet, if an 
article was lost in the house and she could not indicate 
where it was, no one sought for it afterwards. Often 
when Aunt Nancy or mother Avas silently searching 
around the room through drawers, closet, or cupboard, 
Cousin Ruth, without raising her eyes, would point over 
her shoulder to a particular spot, and there the missing 
article was found. She had the power of discriminating 
in cases where speech, hearing, and reason failed in 
others. I sometimes fancied she could read my very 
thoughts; truly there was something mysterious, if not 
supernatural, floating around her. Industrious, affec- 
tionate, happy, and kind, she neither vexed others nor 
fretted herself; and, when the time Came for her to die, 
she manifested to those around her that she was happy 
in the prospect of going to heaven where, she had been so 
often told, speech -and hearing would be restored to her. 
During the sitting of this Conference I first became 
acquainted with Rev. H. H. (now Bishop) Kavanaugh, 
then about twenty-two years of age. Just recovering 
from a long illness, his fragile form, marble complexion, 
and small white hands gave him a feminine delicacy of 
appearance, that seemed to render him an unfit subject 
for the itinerancy; the rough encounters and constant 
exposure of which, in those days, would startle the 
young preachers of the present generation into immediate 
location; but this young brother, unhesitating and ingen- 
uous in spirit, freely sacrificed all personal considerations 
for the high honor of Jehovah's service. My first intro- 
duction to this good brother was when, a few days after 



304 Julia A. Tevis. 

our arrival at father's, my husband placed a bundle of 
flannel in my hands, saying, "Julia, can't you make a 
couple of shirts for a young preacher who has been very 
ill?" I only hope they gave him as much comfort as the 
making gave me pleasure. 

Mr. Kavanaugh's earliest efforts showed that he pos- 
sessed the very important talent of preaching the Gospel 
fluently and acceptably; yet, as I have recently heard, 
he was at one time, in the early part of his ministry, so 
discouraged at seeing no fruits resulting from his labors, 
that he thought he had mistaken his calling, and deter- 
mined to withdraw from the ministry. One night after 
preaching he retired weary and dispirited, surrounded by a 
gloom which enervated his spirit and relaxed the steadfast 
temper of his soul. The result of this severe trial of his 
faith, and under which our young brother had well nigh 
sunk, proves that the best of men are but imperfect 
judges of the wisdom of a gracious, unerring Providence; 
and it was, in the end, divinely overruled with more than 
common benefits to himself and the Church, and made 
the interesting means of introducing him to new displays 
of the eternal goodness, resulting, as it did, in a more 
intimate and hallowed communion with his God. 

During the night referred to, he dreamed that he was 
casting a net for fish in troubled waters; after some 
unsuccessful efforts, he caught two — one a beautiful, 
large, white perch, the other a little brown fish with no 
comeliness. He had scarce secured his treasures when 
he awoke, deeply impressed with the idea that, like 
Elijah in the wilderness, he had failed to see clearly the 
ways of Providence. His eyes, anointed with a divine 
unction, were now opened, and he resolved to "stand 
still and see the salvation of God." 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 305 

At the close of his next sermon, thinking of his 
dream, he walked down from the pulpit, "opened the 
doors of the Church," and forthwith stepped forward a 
large, fine-looking woman. "Well," thought he, "here 
is my white perch." Standing behind her at a modest 
distance, was a humble looking person, weeping bit- 
terly, but not offering to join the Church; he stepped 
forward and said, not doubting that this was his brown 
fish, "Do you wish to join the Church?" "Oh, yes," 
said she, "if I may be received;" and, sobbing with 
deep emotion, she raised her eyes to his face and gave 
him her hand. 

After this revelation our young preacher never again 
faltered. Long years of usefulness have demonstrated 
that he was called of God, and that great and glorious 
Being, whose honor he has always so zealously asserted, 
has caused him to be highly esteemed among men. 
"Him that honoreth me I will honor," saith the blessed 
Redeemer. 

The whole life of this excellent man has been the 
reflection of an unclouded mind and of a conscience void 
of offense. Married to one of the best of women — "a 
mother in Israel," he long enjoyed the highest earthly 
happiness in her companionship, both serving God with 
singleness of heart. They were real helpmates to each 
other; and, though subject to many vicissitudes and be- 
reavements, yet these did but ripen virtues for their 
appropriate sphere in heaven. 

No very striking events mark the history of these two 
followers of the cross, — another proof of that well-estab- 
lished fact that the most meager annals belong to those 
epochs which have been the richest in virtue and happi- 
ness. When the companion with whom he had so long 



306 Julia A. Tevis. 

taken sweet counsel left him for a better world, and his 
last earthly hope had fled, it was beautiful to see how, 
like Ezekiel when bereft by one stroke of the light of his 
eyes, he bowed to the command of God, and with deep 
resignation bore the terrible affliction. Then did the 
light of his divine religion shine inward and dispel the 
gloom in which unassisted man would have sunk in 
despair. 

An early formed habit of journalizing rescues from 
dreary forgetfulness incidents and personal remembrances 
which give beauty and reality to the past, and keep fresh 
in the memory the lessons of life's varied discipline. A 
diary is the soul of days gone by, returning to us invested 
with a spiritual presence; a voice that touches the sealed 
fountains of the past, and opens a stream of living water 
to purify thought and sanctify feeling. 

Between the years 1830 and 1850 the Kentucky Con- 
ference could boast of many ministers of striking indi- 
viduality and energy of character, preachers of righteous- 
ness. Dr. Bascom was one Avhose intrinsic worth was 
not, perhaps, very well known to the public, wide-spread 
as was his fame. And I may here be indulged in a 
sketch of this accomplished gentleman and exemplary 
Christian, the long-tried personal friend of my husband 
and myself. 

It is too much the fashion of modern times to refer to 
Cicero and Demosthenes as the only models of eloquence 
worthy of imitation. While we respect the past, we 
need not bury ourselves in it. The fanatical admirers of 
antiquity might find now, in the noonday of Christianity, 
examples far more luminous and worthy of emulation 
than could have been found in the palmiest days of 
Greece and Rome. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 307 

The clarion voice of young Bascom was heard in the 
western wilds when he was but a smooth-faced boy of 
sixteen. He was, beyond question, the most fluent and 
brilliant speaker of his time. Henry Clay pronounced him 
the greatest of living orators, though there were at that 
period many distinguished public speakers both in Europe 
and America. His style was peculiar to himself and inim- 
itable, and we can gain but an imperfect idea of the gran- 
deur and magnificence of his sermons by reading them. 
In print they are but the cold, marble representation, 
without the living, breathing soul. His language was 
rich, elegant, and perspicuous; his imagery often bold, 
and always just. He seemed to possess an inexhaustible 
fund of grand, forcible, and majestic words, and a mem- 
ory as surprising as his fluency. His elocution was cor- 
rect, manly, and graceful, with the added charm of a 
strong musical voice. He used but few gestures, and 
these few were marked by a noble simplicity. But, after 
all, the irresistible influence of his sermons was due to 
the power of Gospel truth skillfully applied and enforced 
by "heaven -enkindled love." He spoke not as one 
seeking applause, but as deeply concerned for the eternal 
interests of his hearers. The unbounded- admiration 
which his eloquence excited never seemed to move him 
from his dignified self-possession. The earnestness of his 
labors left him no time for fashionable small-talk or idle 
ceremony ; yet he was genial and agreeable. I never 
heard him laugh aloud ; but when his face was lighted 
up with a smile it shone all the brighter because of its 
usual sedate seriousness. His lofty bearing and com- 
manding presence were not the result of artificial acquire- 
ments, but the choicest gifts of lavish Nature. He was 
too proud to be vain, but was rigid in his exactions of 



308 Julia A. Tevis. 

outward respect. While preaching, if his congregation 
failed in their accustomed attention, a shadow crept 
across his brow, observable even through the sunlight 
of his eloquent face. 

Dr. Bascom had difficulties to encounter in his early- 
manhood which nothing but his own irrepressible energy, 
aided by the grace of God in his heart, enabled him to 
overcome. He knew how to profit by the lessons of 
wisdom taught in the school of adversity — a school which 
it would seem is indispensable to the training of great 
men. The pampered and delicate children of easy for- 
tune are often enervated in the bloom of life, and lulled 
to inglorious repose upon the downy lap of prosperity. 

In contemplating the life of this extraordinary man we 
are amazed at the variety and multiplicity of his labors. 
In the establishment and well-being of Augusta College, 
Kentucky, he exerted a controlling influence. Though 
too poor himself to bestow upon it any money, he subsi- 
dized other kindred spirits, unlocked their hoards and 
hearts, and endowed it with his own labors. His intel- 
lectual qualifications and his moral greatness shone not 
only here, but while he served as President of Transylva- 
nia University. In this wider field of usefulness he gained 
the respect and admiration of the community as well as 
the enthusiastic love of those under his care. 

Dr. Bascom was devotedly attached to Methodism, and 
clung to the Church of his choice even when, as was 
more than once the case, while in the zenith of his fame, 
temptation was placed before him in the shape of large 
salaries by wealthier denominations. His body was liter- 
ally a "living sacrifice" to God and duty. He completed 
his self-immolation in mid-life, yet, philosophically speak- 
ing, his death at fifty-five was not premature. His work 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 309 

was done, his life had been crowded with thought and 
action. He died a bishop in the Church in full possess- 
ion of the confidence and love of the people whom he 
had served so well and faithfully. His character admir- 
ably fitted him to manage the affairs of the Church and 
preside over its conferences. 

John Newland Maffit was another of those bright stars 
in the ecclesiastical firmament of America which shone 
contemporary with Dr. Bascom. 

More remarkable vicissitudes than those of Mr. Maffit 
have rarely signalized so brief a career in any age or 
country. His whole life was one brave struggle with 
adverse circumstances. No man ever secured warmer 
friends nor provoked more unrelenting enemies. With- 
out the advantages of early education, without fortune or 
friends, he acquired by persevering industry an attractive 
eloquence which drew thousands of listeners, at the same 
time when Bascom and Summerfield were electrifying not 
only the religious communities of the land, but causing a 
prodigious stir in the outside world. 

With fewer of the externals of piety than usually man- 
ifest themselves in the clerical character, fashionable in 
his attire, polished in his manners, and with a fondness 
for excitement, he was denounced by many as wearing 
the livery of an ambassador of the meek and lowly Savior, 
while utterly destitute of living faith and godliness. On 
the other hand, there were others living in close commu- 
nion with him, sharing his sympathies and familiar with 
those inner traits of mind and character so frequently con- 
cealed from the world, who asserted his unblemished 
piety, his devoted observance of all the private duties of 
a Christian minister, and who triumphantly appealed to 
the fruits of his ministry as evidence of his sincerity, and 



310 Julia A. Tevis. 

of the aid and sanction he was constantly receiving from 
heaven. 

Few men were capable of producing a more profound 
sensation in a congregation. Small of stature, but strik- 
ingly elegant in his personal appearance, his soft and mel- 
odious intonations, faultless gesticulations, and rounded 
periods, his glowing language and lofty imagination, and, 
more than all, his prompt adaptation to the circumstances 
of his auditory, seemed to attract all tastes and furnish 
materials for the conversation of the week following the 
deliveiy of a discourse. Those who censured him in the 
drawing-room and on the street, and were continually call- 
ing in question his piety, listened enraptured to his words, 
forgetting the man in the fascination of the orator. Al- 
ways persuasive, never denunciatory, he charmed and 
soothed the heart with ^Eolian melody, rather than stirred 
its depths with the massive strains of martial music. And 
yet there were occasions when he seemed to evince a 
perfect contempt for the tropes of rhetoric and the graces 
of poetry. On such occasions he was plain, practical, 
evangelical. 

I heard him for the first time in our dear little old 
Methodist church in Shelbyville. It had been announced 
that Mr. Maffit would fill the Sunday pulpit, and long 
before the hour of morning service every seat and every 
square inch of the aisles was occupied. At last he arrived, 
and, tripping lightly up the pulpit stairway, stood before 
the almost breathless and expectant audience. The hymn 
was meekly and impressively read, and sung with thrilling 
emotion by the whole congregation. Prayer followed, 
and the preacher, opening the Bible, prefaced the reading 
of the text by pronouncing slowly and gently, and with 
great solemnity, "the Word of God." A deep interest 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 311 

pervaded the assembly. Many an obdurate heart was 
softened, many a veteran of the cross felt his hopes re- 
vived and his zeal rekindled by the anointing tones of 
that searching, eloquent sermon. It was long, but when 
the last sentence died upon the ear no expression of 
fatigue was visible upon the countenances of the attent- 
ive audience, and the preacher's voice rang out silvery 
to the last. 

The life of Maffit appears to have been far from 
infertile in incident; the incidents, however, are uncon- 
nected and, perversely enough, often obscure and misrep- 
resented. It would be singularly interesting to trace the 
personal history of this wayward genius; but, seemingly, 
no soul was magnet to his — there was none with whom 
he could mingle sympathies. Too erratic to be fettered 
by ordinary conventionalities, he would never submit to 
the regulations of a conference, and was but an offshoot 
from the Methodist Church. 

We can not withhold from one the sun of whose life, 
though culminating so brilliantly, was obscured at its 
setting by clouds of calumny and abuse, the merit to 
which he is justly entitled, and which, at least, should be 
recorded with his faults. The heart is known only to 
God; and the unerring decisions of the last day will, 
doubtless, reverse more than one earthly verdict, which 
seemed based upon conclusive evidence. 

I was never an enthusiastic admirer of Mr. Maffit. 
There was, at times, much in his demeanor to occasion 
distrust of his fitness for the high and holy office of the 
ministry; much in his mode of conducting public serv- 
ices which savored of a love of the praise of men, rather 
than of a desire to please God and save souls; and yet 
there is always room for charity in our estimation of 



312 Julia A. Tevis. 

character. How do the frequent misconstruction and 
perversions of the acts of men prove the fallibility of 
human judgment. I was sufficiently well acquainted with 
this "much-enduring man," to be assured that he was 
slandered — yea, persecuted even unto death. He literally 
died of a broken heart. If guilty of half the crimes 
charged against him, John Newland Maffit deserves the 
execration of his race and the most condign penalties of 
a hereafter ; but if innocent, as we believe he was, he was 
certainly a martyr, and has already received a mar- 
tyr's reward. 

Exuberant hopefulness irradiated for a time the clouds 
which lay dark in the western horizon of his life, 
and sustained him under the most trying circumstances; 
but pursued with unrelenting severity by foul-mouthed 
slander, envy, and hatred; humbled, prostrated, and 
crushed, he descended, while yet in the Summer of his 
life, to a sorrowful grave, thus ending the sad evening of 
a stormy life. No monumental stone marks his resting- 
place; yet the Savior knoweth his own, and he judgeth 
not as man judgeth. May we not hope to find him 
coming with his fellow-laborers, bringing his sheaves with 
him to the great "Harvest Home?" 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 313 



Chapter XXV. 

I had been so long a desolate bird on the wide waste 
of life's unstable waters that when with folded wings 
I rested in the family homestead, I felt like the dove 
sheltered in the ark. My dear little room was near the 
roof of the house. < 

It was cold enough for fires. Winter was creeping 
on, and a ruddy blaze on the hearthstone filled the cozy 
apartment with warmth and gladness; and when I sought 
rest my head pressed a lavender-scented pillow of unri- 
valed whiteness. Our mother had brought from her own 
Maryland home the habits of thrift and industry that 
characterized that estimable people. Table and towel 
linen, and, indeed, all the household linen so abundant 
with them, was of domestic manufacture. No idle hands 
were there, and yet no bustle. Quietness and regularity 
pervaded every department. They arose, breakfasted, 
dined, supped, and went to bed at exactly the same 
hour the whole year round ; clock-work was never more 
regular. Spinning and twisting and reeling, together 
with the swift-flying shuttle, did daily duty in the right 
time and season. Plenty reigned in the parlor, and there 
was abundance in the kitchen. What a blessing to a 
family is a good housekeeper! I tried to take notes, but 
all in vain, — I was born to fill a different sphere. Teach- 
ing was my vocation, and I have always found it easier 
to take care of girls than a house. 

The Conference closed, and my husband was stationed 



314 Julia A. Tevis. 

in Louisville, somewhat disappointed that he was not 
placed in Shelbyville, where I must locate. I shed a 
few natural tears, but love's simple magic swept the gath- 
ering shadows from my brow, and I heartily co-operated 
in every arrangement to promote the good of the Church. 
He commenced his ministerial duties in Louisville imme- 
diately, living at home and going to his appointment the 
latter part of every week, circulating among his flock, 
filling the pulpit twice on the Sabbath, and generally 
remaining on Monday to attend to his pastoral duties. 

The Fourth Street Methodist Church was the only 
one at that time in Louisville. The membership was 
numerous, and a large congregation always in attendance; 
but the minister had an arduous task to perform because 
of the discord among the members, arising from the tur- 
bulence of some of the floating material. "The ship of 
Zion " had been rocked by storms, and, at one time, was 
nigh overwhelmed by the surging billows; but was saved, 
as Bishop M'Kendree afterwards observed, by the weekly 
prayer -meetings of the pious female members, whose 
noble and constant devotion formed an era in the life of 
Louisville Methodism ; and I can not help saying, just 
here, that I truly believe it was owing much to my hus- 
band's efforts that the anchor was finally fixed "within 
the veil." He stood in the breach, stemming the adverse 
torrent, bravely combating all the unfavorable circum- 
stances surrounding the struggling Church, and met 

opposition 

" Like an unmoved rock, 
Not shaken, but made firmer by the shock." 

Before the year closed many were added to the 
Church, peace dwelt in the tents of Israel, and there 
was unity among the brethren. One, added to the flock 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 315 

during this memorable year, became the firm and unal- 
terable friend of the pastor. He had been a dissipated 
man (I have heard him tell the story), and " loved to look 
upon the wine when it was red." His pious and excel- 
lent wife ceased not to be present when opportunity 
offered at the sanctuary of God. He would attend her 
to the door, but would not enter. Once, at length, he 
did so. Smitten by conviction, he found peace only in a 
Savior's love. He cast away the intoxicating cup, and 
joined himself to the people of God. His house ever 
offered a quiet nook for the itinerant Levite. He died 
full of years. The world misses him; and the name of 
Coleman Daniel is emblazoned among the archives of the 
beloved city with which he was almost coeval, and by 
which he can never be forgotten. 

The first Winter I spent in Kentucky was mild and 
genial, the grass did not lose its verdure, there was 
neither ice nor snow, and the ground was scarcely frozen 
at any time more than an inch in depth ; indeed, I do 
not remember a Winter when we had snow enough for 
regular sleighing, or ice thick enough to put up, until 
the year 1835. 

It was on the 28th of December that God gave to us 
our first-born, a son whom we called Benjamin Pendleton, 
after my father and my husband's brother. I need not 
say that this was the child of many prayers, and that he 
was dedicated to Him who bestowed the gift, with thank- 
ful hearts. 

How pure the rill that flows from the unsealed fount- 
ain of parental love! My cup of happiness was filled 
with nectar, and I sipped the sparkling bubbles with a 
trembling joy, lest, haply, they might vanish too soon, 
or I become intoxicated with the delicious draught. 



316 Julia A. Tevis. 

At that time I can truly say our life floated a banner 
of beauty, — a warm, purple tinge, like sunlight on the 
river. The month of March, 1825, on one of our cher- 
ished anniversaries, we commenced housekeeping in Shel- 
byville. Has not every observer of human nature a 
feeling, in excess of happiness, that makes him jealous 
of its ability to last? I had enjoyed so much quiet 
serenity, such a perfect retreat from care, that I dreaded 
a change, and felt something like a shadow creeping 
across my sunshine; and, in the words of a great poet, 
"I wept to have what I so feared to lose." I can never 
forget how sad I felt on leaving the pleasant farm-house, 
with its yard full of locust-trees, which, though the last 
to don their green glories and the first to scatter them to 
the winds, are yet desirable, because their pinnate leaves 
not only afford a soft shade, but suffer the sunlight to 
filter through, without obstructing the cool breeze on its 
errand of mercy, fanning the hot cheek and cooling the 
fevered brow. 

Five months of inactivity had cultivated the indolence 
of my nature, and I slightly shrank from entering again 
the arena of school-teaching. I was singularly ignorant of 
every thing connected with housekeeping, and dreaded 
the ordeal through which I must pass to render me at 
all efficient. Our first day's wants were anticipated by 
mother, and baskets, stored with provisions ready for the 
table, preceded us to our home. 

Our house, standing on the brow of a green and 
goodly hill, in view of a wide open country on the north, 
presented a scene of great beauty. Slopes and swells 
of luxuriant green, trees drooping their verdant boughs 
almost to the ground, lined the banks of the stream that 
swept around the base of the hill, mingling the grand and 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 317 

the beautiful into an enchanting whole; and when we 
first became the occupants of this, our life-long residence, 

" Flowers were bursting on the tree, 
And earth was full of melody." 

Oui extended view rested upon cultivated farms and in- 
tervening woodlands, over which the cool winds swept, 
bearing health and fragrance on their wings. South of 
us was the dear, quiet little town, near enough to con- 
tribute all its conveniences, and yet so shut out as to 
leave us free from the annoyance of public gatherings on 
court days. 

Cheerfulness is, perhaps, the word that best describes 
the appearance of the sunny little village, — clean, airy, 
orderly, and comfortable, — amply compensating for what- 
ever want of modern elegance or modish luxury might 
be observed. The county-seat of Shelby owed much of 
its importance to its district and circuit court sessions 
and election days, which brought from time to time an 
influx not only of the county people but of strangers. 

Several peculiarities have ever characterized this place. 
The inhabitants, dwelling in their own houses, among 
their own people, and knowing but little of the world 
abroad, live too much within doors, and there is, conse- 
quently, but little of that social intercourse and inter- 
change of the common courtesies of life that render a 
village life so charming; yet they are "not forgetful to 
entertain strangers," and are remarkable for their noble 
charities, liberal donations, and readiness to help in any 
enterprise promoting the general good. 

Another feature of this highly favored spot is the 
attention paid to public worship. With a population 
never exceeding fifteen or sixteen hundred, it has a Bap- 
tist, a Methodist, a Presbyterian, and Reformed Church, 



318 Julia A. Tevis. 

all of them filled each Sabbath with a well-dressed and 
orderly congregation. Not a family in the place, per- 
haps, that has not its Church-going member or members. 

I early came to the conclusion that these same good 
people had become well to do in the world, or made 
fortunes, by minding their own business; and experience 
has taught me that people may be unsocial, and still 
have hands "open as melting day to the calls of charity;" 
and though they may not be found upon the corners of 
the streets, pharisaically blowing their own trumpets, 
their money is readily found when sought for ; and in 
our community those hearts that have been trained to 
give by constant appeals to their charity are ever ready 
to give more. 

I do not wish to say too much about Shelbyville; but 
my readers will pardon me, as it has been so long the 
home of my heart. Shut out from the busy mart of 
men, no malarious surroundings to engender disease or 
foster epidemics, it is decidedly a healthy place. This, 
combined with its rural beauties, renders it a desirable 
location for a school. Here Spring wears her greenest 
garments, and Summer crowns her brow with roses 
sweeter than the most fragrant exotics. Here Autumn 
ripens her most luscious fruits, and Winter garners an 
abundant store of golden apples and other treasures 
for home consumption ; and though he sometimes crowns 
himself with glittering diamonds, yet his warm and sunny 
smiles kindle the heart into rapture and dissipate the 
gloominess of the season. 

Our first duty was to erect a family altar, where my 
husband was to officiate daily when at home, and I, by 
agreement, whenever he was absent, so that this ordi- 
nance might never be omitted, unless providentially. The 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 319 

recollection of many interesting scenes connected with 
family prayers comes floating over me, like clouds from 
the horizon of memory, with a shower of emotions and 
thoughts, to receive whose precious fall my heart opens 
like a thirsty flower. The time of morning prayers 
was half an hour before breakfast, — in the evening soon 
after supper, that the children might not have to sit up 
too late, nor be permitted to retire before this duty was 
performed. We made this arrangement in the beginning, 
and have never found any good reasons to change it; on 
the contrary, when the time became a fixed fact all diffi- 
culties vanished. The regular and punctual performance 
of these duties, with all the preliminary sobrieties of slow, 
quiet, and reverential manner, tended to inspire religious 
sentiment among our pupils. 

Mr. Tevis was said to be eloquent in prayer, but this 
inestimable gift was the result of a devotional spirit. The 
Bible .was his constant companion; this he read and 
studied daily, and often upon his knees. I have heard 
him repeatedly say he never read a novel in his life. He 
eschewed political papers as well ; but he was surrounded 
by religious periodicals and biographies. No one can 
doubt that the soul, fed with pure nourishment, and 
growing, undisturbed by sickly fancies, like a tree planted 
by the River of Waters and fed by the dews of heaven, 
sends forth its roots into a fertile soil, and lifts up its 
branches into the sunlight of that better land — the home 
where it shall find its proper sphere. 

From the family altar the soul may go forth on its 
errand of mercy, its enterprises and missions, and there 
return to receive its rewards. To me this sacred institu- 
tion, through long years, through dangers and sorrows, in 
prosperity and adversity, has been an exhaustless fountain 



320 Julia A. Tevis. 

of delight and purifying influences. The sweetest type 
of heaven is a religious home, and heaven itself the home 
for which we are all striving. Prayer should begin every 
day's labor, and stand at the end of every day's journey. 
This life would, indeed, be cheerless and meaningless did 
we not discern, across the river that separates it from the 
life beyond, glimpses of pleasant mansions prepared for 
us. When God gives us a home it should be to us and 
our children the fountain and reservoir of our daily life, 
and family prayer should be made a permanent and in- 
dispensable part of our household duties. It is the center 
where all the sweet affections are brought forth and nur- 
tured, — the spot to which memory clings most fondly, 
and to which the wanderer returns most gladly. 

God pity the poor child who can not associate his 
youth with an institution so rife with sweet religious 
reminiscences, whence he drank in life's freshness, and 
shaped the character he bears! 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 321 



Chapter XXVI. 

Monday, March 25, 1825, our school opened with 
eighteen or twenty pupils. We did not expect a 
larger number because we had taken no pains to adver- 
tise in any way, consequently it was not known abroad. 
I had four boarders to commence with; Miss D., a 
tall, slender girl of fifteen, with an open countenance, 
fine, frank manners, and without much cultivation, but 
as witty as if she had been fed on Attic salt. Her quick 
repartees brought her into frequent difficulties, but her 
unfailing good humor removed them as readily. She 
was a cheerful companion and an agreeable girl in school. 
Then there was Miss W., a laughter-loving, country 
lassie, whose well-molded form, golden hair, blue eyes, 
and glowing complexion, rendered her one of the sweet- 
est, loveliest girls that ever romped upon the green- 
sward. She seemed born to wear white hats wreathed 
with flowers, and to bring sunshine and laughter to the 
play-ground where the fairies dance. Another, Miss L. 
J., a singularly interesting young person to me, was 
possessed of those delicate graces which rendered her a 
model pupil. She was quiet, orderly and serious almost 
to sadness, with a loving and tender heart that rendered 
her the friend of the younger pupils, and the aid and 
counselor of her companions. Considerably advanced 
in her "teens," she was ever meditating how she might 



322 Julia A. Tevis. 

best improve and fit herself for life's duties. Truly a 

lovely girl; her full soul 

"Rich as the lustrous gems which line 
With ruddy light the Indian mine." 

My fourth was Margaret. The degenerate days of 
"Mags and Maggies" had not then come to pass. Re- 
markable for her unobtrusiveness, she made an impression 
upon my mind as being an agreeable and affectionate girl. 

I have before said, that one may teach well without 
being in love with the work, if one has the ability to 
impart knowledge and a respectable fund of knowledge 
to impart. I had not yet so learned to love my voca- 
tion as not to look forward through long coming years to 
the time, when I might conscientiously live within the 
limits of my own domestic circle; but I bravely deter- 
mined to discharge my duties faithfully and in the fear 
of God, encountering difficulties that I never could have 
overcome by my own unaided strength. What an ines- 
timable blessing it is, that our Heavenly Father renders 
pleasant that course of life marked out by a sense of 
duty! The most rugged pathways are made smooth, 
while clouds of incense from our grateful hearts cast 
their soft shadows around us like blessings from the upper 
world. 

Few of my pupils had been subjected to the whole- 
some discipline of a well-regulated school, — thus they 
required to be taught the simplest rudiments of know- 
ledge. Some had been properly instructed, but so 
irregularly, and by so many different teachers, that I 
found it necessary to tear down a portion of the super- 
structure and lay the corner-stone more firmly — pre- 
paratory to the cultivation of thorough intellectual habits. 

There was not a positively disagreeable girl among 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 323 

my limited number of boarders, the first year; and my 
day scholars were docile, and placed so entirely under my 
control by their sensible parents that I passed many 
pleasant hours in the school-room, — and the fruits of my 
efforts in their behalf soon became apparent. Amid all 
my anxiety for their mental improvement, one object I 
kept steadily in view — the cultivation of the affections 
and giving them right views of the claims of God upon 
their hearts; and I cherish the hope that at the day of 
final account it may appear that my labor was "not in 
vain in the Lord." 

We were so situated that, unembarrassed by other 
considerations, I could so lay plans and make arrange- 
ments that I felt myself at liberty to give undivided 
attention to the business of teaching, with the perfect 
assurance that minor affairs would be promptly and 
effectively rendered subservient to this our settled voca- 
tion. I had spent so much of my life in boarding-schools, 
taking notes all the time, that I was anxious, while 
adopting with them the regular routine and the salutary 
discipline necessary for success, to avoid the many objec- 
tionable features. 

I determined, in the first place, that my table should 
be well supplied, though I knew that many, like the 
rebellious Israelites, would complain of the fare even 
should they have enough and to spare; because it ever 
has been and ever will be "la facon de parler." My 
experience then, and nothing has since contradicted it, 
was that those who lived best at home complained least 
at school. 

One evil I had so much deprecated in other schools I 
would never submit to; namely, the girls congregating 
in their rooms, even at intervals between school hours, to 



324 Julia A. Tevis. 

romp and gossip. Their bed-rooms should be well aired 
and kept in good order, no matter how plain the furni- 
ture. This has been carried out literally. The boarders 
had free access to their rooms until they abused the 
privilege by disobedience of orders ; after which I adopted 
a system which has worked well and brought good 
results. More of this anon. 

The externs formed but a little flock for the first few 
weeks, but soon increased to the number of thirty -five or 
forty, their ages varying from ten to fifteen — girls were 
too old for school at sixteen ! There had been no female 
school of any importance in the place previous to our 
coming, and yet the good people of Shelbyville were not 
unmindful of the rising generation, sustaining a mixed 
school of juveniles in the Academy. There was also a 
"dame school" for little masters and misses that were 
not old enough to enter the Academy and be regularly 
instructed. 

No lapse of time will ever efface from my memory 
the recollections connected with my first year's teaching 
in Shelbyville ; and never shall I forget what I endured 
during the receptions of the first day. How clearly I 
was scanned, and how thoroughly examined by the new- 
comers! and then the grave instructions and positive 
injunctions of mammas and papas, guardians and aunts. 
The fact was, before the day ended I was wearied into a 
fit of tears and glad to seek rest in sleep. 

I arose the next morning, wearied in advance with the 
painful drudgery before me, contrasting my anticipated 
future and the cares upon me with the quiet life I had 
enjoyed during the last five months in the country; but, 
naturally buoyant in spirit and of a happy temperament, 
the clouds soon gave way to sunshine, and in less than a 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 325 

week the wheels moved smoothly on, and again I became 
accustomed to the shrill voices and rapid motions of 
children, and gradually took increasing delight in that 
which at first made my head dizzy. My Wythe Court- 
house experience with a large and growing school was 
put into requisition, and I soon took deep interest in the 
bright and happy faces around me. 

Among several little girls, day scholars, whose names 
were enrolled on my first list, was one whose appearance 
I remember so well, that I can not help drawing the 
picture as it then appeared. A tiny girl, scarce ten 
years old, she had traveled a flowery pathway up to that 
time, chasing the butterflies of life's morning, and drink- 
ing the sparkling dew-drops from its flowers. Her laugh- 
ing eyes looked searchingly into mine, as her mother 
presented her, and seemed to say, "Please, ma'am, don't 
be too strict." For many years her light footstep and 
musical voice rang changes through corridor and hall, 
and many a pleasing tableau do I recall connected with 
this dancing fairy whose flying feet scarce prevented the 
grass from growing under them. I loved her then as a 
pupil, and since, in blooming maturity, as a friend. Two 
daughters, in after years, were committed to my care 
and instruction ; so that link after link has been added to 
the chain of friendship even down to my old age. 

This is not an isolated case ; many others among the 
bright young girls of Shelbyville are still remembered as 
cheerful sunbeams, chasing away the petty vexations of 
the school-room, and gleaming through the shadowy 
vista of by-gone days. I have known these through the 
succeeding eras of maidens, wives, and mothers ; and 
their daughters have occupied the same desks that the 
mothers did before them. I confess to a lurking par- 



326 Julia A. Tevis. 

tiality for the grand-children who have stepped in one by 
one, to fill their appropriate niche in my heart; yet I 
do not think I have ever relaxed my discipline on that 
account or manifested any favoritism. 

My little commonwealth grew so rapidly that I soon 
found my time fully occupied in teaching, and could look 
but little to the ways of my household except where the 
girls were concerned. I was occupied at least seven 
hours daily in the literary department during the first 
year; taught drawing and French besides, and gave some 
music lessons. There were, however, but few pupils in 
these accomplishments, and I gave my drawing lessons in 
the school-room, and my music lessons in the intervals 
between school hours — often rocking the cradle, at the 
same time, with one foot or holding the baby in my arms. 

I have often risen at three o'clock on a Winter 
morning and sketched enough for the day's occupation. 
Many little fingers plied the busy needle on gay-bordered 
samplers, but I eschewed the tall brick houses, the 
angular figures and stunted trees sometimes decorating 
this species of needle-work, with the twenty different 
stitches taught in the olden times. I have now before 
me a sampler worked by one of my pupils forty years 
ago; and though the colors are faded, there is a witching 
sweetness in the memories that cling around its pale 
flowers, and cause me to turn with strange tenderness to 
the past. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 327 



Chapter XXVII. 

A few months increased my boarders to the full 
capacity of the house ; and, with all my vigilance, 
I found myself totally unequal to the task of contending 
with the careless, slovenly habits of eight or ten light- 
hearted and boisterous girls, without drawing tighter the 
reins of government ; and I appeal to every one who has 
had the like thorny road to travel if the wish has not 
been formed again and again that mothers would begin 
earlier to induct their daughters into habits of neatness 
and regularity. Think of a number of girls from differ- 
ent families and of different ages, thrown together at a 
boarding-school, where there must be a certain degree of 
self-dependence exercised, and of the painful drudgery of 
being obliged to teach them the most trivial things neces- 
sary to the formation of tidy habits! Many a painstaking 
and affectionate mother, injudiciously, and sometimes from 
indolence, would rather do herself what it is her duty to 
teach her young daughter to do ; while others shift the 
responsibility upon a young and inexperienced governess, 
who proves little better than a nursery -maid so far as 
these habits are concerned. 

During my long career, I have been afflicted with 
girls who, previous to entering my family, had scarce 
done more than put on their own shoes and stockings, — 
much less were they able to decide what dresses they 
should wear day by day. It gave me an immense amount 
of trouble to correct these inefficient habits. It is a hard 



328 Julia A. Tevis. 

matter to undo, In two or three years, habits acquired in 
fourteen or fifteen. "A place for every thing-, and every 
thing in its place," is a maxim in every body's mouth, 
but seldom enforced; from the neglect of which arise 
those irregularities which afflict most families. 

One case now presents itself. A young lady from 
the Far South, the unhappy owner of twenty-five dresses, 
was found one morning weeping bitterly, and wringing 
her hands in the deepest grief. My sympathy was ex- 
cited towards the poor child so far from home, and I 
asked, in a soothing voice: 

"What is the matter? Have you heard any bad 
news?" 

"Oh, no," said she, her sobs increasing as if her heart 
would break; "but " 

"But what?" 

" I have n't got any thing to put on." 

The bed before her was covered with dresses. 

"Why, what do you mean, child? Are these not 
yours?" 

"Yes; but one is torn, another has no hooks and 
eyes, and there are none of them fit to Avear. I wish I 
was at home; mother always told me what dress to put 
on, and had them kept in order for me." 

And then followed a fresh burst of tears. 

Children, if not made to wait upon themselves as soon 
as they are able, will form the items of as untidy a gen- 
eration as ever trod the floor of a school-room, or moved 
upon the tapis of society. The teacher must therefore 
stem the tide, or she will fail to perform her duty to 
parents and pupils. 

I began my reform by excluding the girls from their 
bed-chambers after they left them in the morning. They 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 329 

made their own beds, swept and dusted their rooms, and 
put every thing in order before the school hour. As 
soon as the school-bell rang in the morning, and after 
the rooms had been inspected by a careful eye, the doors 
were locked, and the keys placed in the hands of a care- 
ful person appointed for that purpose, only giving the 
girls the privilege, when necessary, of getting the key 
and returning it as soon as the errand was performed, — 
thus making them thoughtful as to what they might want 
during the day. This proved an excellent arrangement. 
If there were several girls in a room, the duty devolving 
upon each in turn, of keeping the room in order, made 
them cautious in throwing articles of clothing about, know- 
ing the penalty would be a demerit mark, a dictionary 
lesson, or several pages of extra writing. 

I grew fonder of teaching as days and months rolled 
on, and moved steadily onward with my daily duties, 
courageously encountering difficulties, looking full in the 
face whatever was before me, and taking most conscien- 
tious care that my pupils should never be neglected, nor 
the duties of to-day left for to-morrow. Consequently, 
it was not an uncommon thing for night to find me still 
at my post, too weary even to sigh. Yet I was never 
gloomy, never desponding ; and amid all my perplexities 
prayer and the Word of God had the living power to stir 
my heart to its very depths and prevent that stupor and 
apathy which sometimes settles on the soul. In the dark- 
est hours of doubt and foreboding I rested strongly upon 
the abiding faith of my beloved husband as a treasure of 
our common life. Trust flowed into his heart as rivers 
enter the sea; his soul was like a well -watered garden 
planted by the river's side. 

I watched my flock constantly, and did not, as soon 



330 Julia A. Tevis. 

as school was over, try to lose sight and sound of chil- 
dren, books, slates, and blackboards. My thoughts were 
ever with them, and I was often content to be in the 
school-room half the day on Saturday. Earnestly desir- 
ing to make mine a "home school," I felt the responsi- 
bility of a mother, and was accessible to my pupils at 
all hours of the day, trying never to be weary of them, 
however tiresome they might be, while I could assist, 
teach, or comfort them. The only difference between 
being with them in school and out of it was that I ex- 
changed long lessons for long stories, and pleasant con- 
versations; and sometimes exhortation and reproof ended 
in watching over and assisting them in their amusements. 
Thus, though they murmured at my strictness, the awk- 
ward and boisterous profited by reprimand, and the 
untidy and slovenly never rebelled against my authority. 
Many a blotted exercise was tossed into the fire; many 
a smuggled novel, when found in the corner of a desk, 
was made an auto-da-fe, to the terror of evil doers and 
the edification of the younger girls. 

I do not think I was ever what might be called cross 
or ill-natured ; nor did I search out faults as with a lighted 
candle, for the express purpose of scolding; yet I was 
often provoked by some indication of latent disorder — a 
stray handkerchief, an odd glove, or an old shoe peeping 
out from its hiding-place, indicating the propriety of a 
general search through desks and rooms, to find what 
was out of place, and bring under my eye all contra- 
band articles. 

It has been a continued effort on my part to break up 
that code of morals so prevalent in schools and academies 
by which every species of evasion and cunning is allowa- 
ble to hoodwink and deceive teachers. I have endeav- 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 331 

« 

ored to accomplish this, in the first place, by giving the 
girls no more leisure than was good for them, cultivating 
a spirit of candor, placing confidence in those who de- 
served it, and making such "keepers of their brothers," 
but by no means spies or tale-bearers. Such a course, 
judiciously carried out, will not utterly fail of the de- 
sired effect. 

There is nothing more painful to me than to hear men 
and women boast of the scrapes and practical jokes of 
their school -days, concealing lies and dishonesty under 
the name of harmless fun. Such a course of conduct at 
school lays the foundation of an unstable, unreliable 
character in after life; and, if viewed through the crystal 
medium of truth, is calculated to make one shudder at 
the possible consequences of bad habits early formed. 
These "innocent pleasures!" "harmless sports!" often 
fatally lead inconsiderate young persons astray. When- 
ever my watchful eye has detected, or the vigilance of 
my assistants discovered, any irregularity, it has been 
promptly and efficiently put down. The rules by which 
the family and school have always been governed are few s 
and simple, and have needed no printed cards to enforce 
them. They were positive, but not severe. 

I have cautiously avoided that disagreeable and ob- 
noxious proclivity so often observed in teachers and 
parents, favoritism, rigidly eschewing all undue partiality. 
The fact was well understood throughout the household 
that our laws were not cobwebs, made to entangle the 
weak, but through which the strong might break with 
impunity. The moral and religious discipline exer- 
cised has been generally attended with the happiest' 
results. We have tried to make the pupils feel that their 
interests were our interests. There is nothing so fatal as 



332 Julia A. Tevis. 

party spirit in a juvenile community, — one common bond 
must exist. Teachers and scholars should never stand in 
the attitude of belligerents; and from the time a pupil 
entered the institution she became one of us. 

Pocket-money has never been left at the disposal of 
the pupils, but immediately placed to the credit of the 
parents and guardians; neither have they been allowed to 
make bills on their own responsibility, but all their wants 
being referred to me, our accounts, presented half-yearly, 
included every expenditure. No indulgence within the 
limits of prudence has been denied them, while every 
thing necessary to promote their comfort and facilitate 
their improvement was supplied. This has obviated all 
fictitious distinctions formed upon an undue amount of 
"spending money" on the one side, and a meagre allow- 
ance on the other, and the harmony and good-will of the 
whole has been promoted. A strict adherence to this 
wholesome regulation has worked wonders in producing a 
contented spirit, — the wisdom of which has been proved 
by years of experience. 

Every girl, except the very young, has been required 
to keep her wardrobe in order; and I have found the 
Southern girls, though supposed to be thriftless and self- 
indulgent, well acquainted with the use of the needle, 
and quite willing to use it in plain sewing; many of them, 
accustomed to have a servant for each finger and toe, 
readily and cheerfully falling into our way of helping 
themselves, rejoicing, as it were, in their emancipation 
from the conventionalities so rife in Slave States. True, 
it was hard at first to pick up their own skirts, hang up 
their own bonnets, and fold up their own shawls ; but 
they very soon learned to dispense with "Phcebe" and 
"Ouashy," and cheerfully submitted to the pains and 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 333 

penalties that marked the road to the desired attainment 
of those useful habits which must be practiced in after life. 

On the contrary, I have known some from the Free 
States, whose mothers were models in their housekeeping 
arrangements, the very atmosphere in which the young 
plants had lived being infected with fastidious neatness, 
who, when transplanted to a boarding-school, were pro- 
verbially careless and slovenly. Mamma was too neat to 
endure the failures of the daughter's early efforts, and 
preferred doing to the trouble of giving line upon line 
and precept upon precept. 

Alas, how much have I suffered from this omission, 
and the necessity of trying to fill up the gaps left by 
good and otherwise painstaking mothers! 

My amplification upon this subject will be readily 
pardoned as this work is intended partly as a guide-book 
for young and inexperienced teachers. I recollect how 
anxiously I sought instruction upon such subjects, and 
was enlightened only after a long and somewhat painful 
experience, and I do not wish my experience to die 
with me. 

In this connection I have often lamented neglect with 
regard to the early formation of character upon the im- 
mutable basis of truth. This should begin at the first 
dawn of reason. We are taught in the Bible that the 
enemy of souls is never idle; and if we do not cultivate 
the virgin soil Satan will do it for us. Power is possessed 
by the early guardians of the human soul to grow the 
good seed of truth while the soil is still wet with the dew 
of heavenly grace, in virtue of the sacrificial death of 
Christ. "Time enough yet," is a fatal delusion. 

Our first session passed off pleasantly, and, though 
principally composed of raw material, we managed by 



334 Julia A. Tevis. 

persevering industry to weave a tissue of considerable 
strength and beauty for our examination in July, when 
the exhibited attainments of the pupils, by a thorough 
sifting of the classes, proved to a curious and inquisitive 
audience that our method of teaching was well adapted 
to draw forth even the most latent capacity, and elicit 
some sparks from the cold steel of the dullest brain. 

The finale of that examination was beautiful, — every 
body was charmed, and none more so than the children, 
going home for the holidays with gratified fathers and 
mothers, delighted to be free from school restraints for a 
season, that they might frolic in the woods and play 
"hide-and-go-seek" amid the tangled shade and sunshine. 
The grass and the flowers and the trees were never so 
full of beauty to them, as if in reward for their long 
confinement. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 335 



Chapter XXVIII. 

Our vacation was spent in making improvements pre- 
paratory to the next session. September came, 
and, though Summer had gathered up her gorgeous 
robes and like a dream of beauty glided away, her warm 
smiles yet lingered, heralding the approach of an Indian 
Summer. I knew from the many applications that our 
school would be full, but had not anticipated a crowded 
opening. In less than a week the school-room was rilled 
almost to overflowing — not a niche unoccupied — and we 
had as many boarders as we could accommodate. 

The scenes and events connected with this year were 
so many and so varied, that much of interest has escaped 
my memory. Among my new pupils was a gentle, timid 
girl from the far South. This only and beloved daughter 
of a tender father had been reared like a hot-house 
plant, and when she reached the age of fourteen, her 
father wisely determined to send her to Kentucky, his 
own native State, that the cool breath of a' Wintery 
sky might strengthen her constitution and bring out the 
roses on her cheeks. 

A gentle, drooping creature, she blushed on being 
looked at, and dreaded to be spoken to, reminding one 
of the shrinking mimosa. Large, luminous eyes, a pro- 
fusion of soft brown hair, and a sweet, flitting smile 
which came out like sunlight over her pale brow and fair 
face, when pleased or excited, rendered her exceedingly 
attractive. She had been always feeble; probably in 



336 Julia A. Tevis. 

consequence of too much nursing, and her father asked 
permission to send a servant maid to wait upon her at 
school. This was declined upon the plea, that, if in 
sufficiently good health to be at school, with proper 
attention on our part, she would need no such assistance. 
She must learn self-dependence by being kindly and 
gradually urged onward. 

The first week was full of trials to the little exotic, 
but they were nobly overcome by her perseverance. To 
make up her bed was her first trial ; in this she succeeded 
only after an hour's continued effort, taking several resting 
spells. She soon found use for her hands and feet as well 
as her mind. It was scarcely ever necessary to chide her, 
she was so gentle, and there was something with this gen- 
tleness, of purity and dignity that clung to her like a 
garment — insuring respect as well as love; and with it 
all, a natural taste for elegance and refinement. The 
grandmother of this young lady lived within a few miles of 
Shelbyville, and being provided with a beautiful little 
carriage and two ponies by her indulgent father, the 
arrangement was made that she should go every Friday 
evening to spend Saturday and Sunday with her aged 
relative. This afforded ample opportunity for country 
air and exercise, so that this delicate and fragile girl, 
before many weeks had passed, began to bloom with a 
freshness and beauty almost marvelous. As the ele- 
ments of health breathed roses on her cheeks, and 
"touched her soul to finer issues," the golden rays of 
intellect fell upon the mind and ripened its expanding 
faculties. 

Mr. Tevis, though as much as ever devoted to his 
sacred calling, found time to give his personal attention 
to some classes, attending also to the general business of 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 337 

the establishment; indeed, he was so completely iden- 
tified with the institution as to embody his firm and 
unyielding views of right and wrong with it; and it was 
my highest aspiration to co-operate with him, in striving 
to render our school acceptable in the sight of God. We 
desired that the examples given and the precepts taught 
therein should be a practical comment upon the truth of 
Divine Revelation, and determined from the outset that 
while the mind should be cultivated, and the manners of 
our pupils rendered easy and graceful, dancing should 
never be taught within its walls; and that those placed 
under our charge should never attend dancing parties — 
nor, indeed, parties of any kind during the session. 

Music in its sweetest and most elevated character 
was cultivated, and no real accomplishment neglected, 
feeling it to be a fact, that nothing better can be done for 
a bright girl next to forming her religious principles, than 
to open her vision to the loveliness with which God has 
been pleased to fill creation, and make fact of what the 
the poet says, — 

"To her there is a story in every breeze 
And a picture in every wave." 

Cultivating a taste for the fine arts is part of a liberal 
education, and throws an atmosphere of refinement around 
well instructed minds, that favors all beautiful growth 
of thought. 

One Monday morning our little Southern girl failed to 
return ; this was unusual, but it was a dreary day, and 
we thought it possible she might be detained on that 
account. The afternoon came, and the sun shone pleas- 
antly; still she did not make her appearance. Just 
before school closed it was whispered in my ear, "Mrs. 
has a dancing party this evening, and Miss L. is 



33% Julia A. Tevis. 

there to attend it." I felt very anxious and troubled, 
scarce knowing what to do. She well knew she Avas 
violating one of the most positive regulations of the 
family. Should it be passed by unnoticed? Immediately 
after supper I communicated it to Mr. Tevis. He picked 
up his hat without a moment's hesitation, saying, 

"I will go for her." Mrs. B.'s home was only about 
a hundred yards distant. 

"Stop a moment," said I, "wait until she returns to- 
morrow morning; perhaps she can give some good 
excuse." 

"I think it best to attend to it now," he replied. 

I waited his return with intense anxiety, knowing 
well what would be the consequence if she did not return 
with him; and I loved her too well to be willing to 
part with her under such circumstances. 

Scarce half an hour had elapsed when my husband's 
well-known footstep was heard. I met him at the door 
just in time to catch a glimpse of Miss L. 's slight figure 
as she passed quickly by me and ran hastily up stairs. 

"She has returned, tell me all about it," said I. 

Mr. Tevis replied, "I called for Miss L., and was 
admitted into a room where Mrs. was superin- 
tending the last touch of her cousin's toilet before she 
should enter the ball-room. Declining an offered seat I 
told Miss L. I had come to take her home." 

"She can not go, sir; she is engaged to spend the 
evening with me." 

"We do not permit our boarders to attend dancing 
parties, madam." 

"She is only your boarder from Monday morning 
until Friday evening," replied the lady. 

"This is Monday evening," said Mr. Tevis. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 339 

"True, but she came here without going to your 
house this morning, and you have no right to take her 
home with you under the circumstances." 

"I differ with you, madam, and insist upon Miss L. 's 
returning with me immediately or not returning at all to 
my house." 

The timid girl stood motionless in the middle of the 
floor, her downcast eyes filled with tears. Turning to 
her, Mr. Tevis said, 

"Miss L., will you go with me, and remain under our 
guidance and protection where your father placed you, or 
will you stay here, and take the consequences?" 

"I will go with you, Mr. Tevis," she said, springing 
forward and seizing his arm, as if afraid to hesitate; and, 
hastily snatching up her sun-bonnet she pulled it over her 
face as if to exclude every surrounding object, and walked 
out, regardless of the angry gesticulations of her disap- 
pointed relative. Not a word was spoken on their way 
home ; it was the triumph of right principle and I was sat- 
isfied. My heart yearned over the gentle girl, and I could 
not sleep without seeing her. Going up into her room I 
found her with her face hidden in the bedclothes, sobbing 
as if her heart would break. I tried to soothe her by 
expressions of approbation for her decision ; and though 
she uttered no word in reply, I felt that my kindness had 
the desired effect, and left her to sleep away her sorrows. 
The next morning she was down bright and early, deeply 
engrossed with her books. Not the slightest allusion 
was made to the past, but I noticed the drooping eyelid, 
and saw how the soft color came and went upon her 
cheek, and her evident embarrassment mingled with 
shyness whenever Mr. Tevis spoke to her, though in his 
tone and manner there was no remembrancer. 



34° Julia A. Tevis. 

This affair made a great deal of talk in our little 
town, and stirred up the dancing element amazingly. 
My brother-in-law, thoroughly a man of the world, but 
truly interested in our prosperity, expressed his fears 
that this arbitrary measure would blight our prospects. 

"Brother John, you will ruin your school; people will 
not submit to such dictation." 

"They must, if they place their children under our 
care. I shall never compromise with the world, nor seek 
favor but from God, to whom I have committed my 
soul's best interest, and with whom I am also willing to 
trust my temporal prosperity." 

We lost no pupils, and the event proved that the 
confidence of parents and guardians was more firmly 
established than ever. We had no further trouble, and 
Miss L. continued one of the most tractable, studious, 
and affectionate of our pupils during the three years she 
remained with us. She came to us a frail and delicate 
blossom, she went home with a constitution so firmly 
established that she outlived three husbands, was the 
mother of a family of children, and died only four 
years ago. 

I would repeat here that I do most heartily condemn 
dancing; its associations and its influence upon the gen- 
eral system of society being pernicious in the extreme. 
Dulling the sense of moral feeling, it establishes the 
reign of false appearances, lowers the standard of true 
taste, and drives from its circle those by whose virtues 
or by whose talents that circle might be adorned. How 
often do we see young persons, whose independent spirit 
would make them shrink from the hurtful influence of 
the hollow pretensions and empty parade of the world's 
low pleasures, and those captivating and dangerous lures 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 341 

which beset the pathway of the young, wanting in that 
mental vigor supported by moral and religious rectitude, 
which would secure the firmness to resist hurtful al- 
lurements. Yet parents should studiously avoid that 
cold severity in which young minds find an excuse for 
artful conduct. Let the young also remember that a 
crooked policy, even under the most trying circum- 
stances, always brings a thousand nameless terrors, cal- 
culated to destroy all peace of mind. 

I have before remarked that one of the greatest afflic- 
tions in a commonwealth of young girls who have not 
been accustomed to look after their own wearing apparel 
is their reckless abandon with regard to such matters; 
and nothing tends more to encourage slovenly habits 
than too extensive a wardrobe. Give a school-girl just 
enough, and she will learn to dress with more taste, and 
display more ingenuity in keeping her clothes in order, 
bringing into exercise that constant industry which will 
teach her to make her toilet quickly and give her a 
womanly tact which could scarcely be acquired under 
other circumstances. A contrary course multiplies our 
Flora M'Flimseys to a frightful extent, reminding one of 
the sailor who said "he never could do any thing with 
his rope if it was too long, but if it was too short he 
could splice it." 

Young girls are apt to be charmed with "braided 
hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array," and to conclude 
that they are respectable and admired in proportion as 
they are fine; but I know by experience that the touch 
of velvets and the gloss of silks, together with flowers 
and feathers, have but little virtue to reconcile them to 
close application, or school duties generally. 

For the benefit of inexperienced matrons in large 



342 Julia A. Tevis. 

schools, where pupils of various ages and acquirements 
are mingled, I would suggest a plan that I have found to 
work exceedingly well ; namely, selecting for the younger 
pupils what are called in English institutions "school 
mothers," who shall take particular supervision of the 
pupils placed under their care, assisting them in their 
lessons, keeping their wearing apparel in order, and, in 
fact, helping them to acquire good habits, referring to a 
superior when necessary. I have known many dear little 
girls, that would have been otherwise lost amid the 
bustle of a large school, thrive rapidly under this double 
training. Thus, while every body concedes the fact that 
a boarding-school is not the most suitable place for a 
little girl, yet such direct and individual attention is an 
excellent means of forming the character, cultivating the 
manners, developing the affections, and nourishing much 
that .is lovely and of good report in many an orphan 
deprived of parental care when most needed. 

But, after all, no one can so well form the character 
as a judicious and religious mother, who has the best 
right to a permanent place in her daughter's heart, and 
who can throw around her the necessary restrictions, 
without exposing her to the hurtful influences of unsuit- 
able associations. The mother can best prevent the de- 
velopment of that unlovely trait of character which leads 
her to complain of those whom she should respect, and 
who really deserve her gratitude. Yet we often find in 
a well-regulated school more vigilance exercised in the 
inculcation of moral principle than in the far better op- 
portunities of home. Children are not taught early 
enough to ask, \" What is truth?" and made to know that 
"lying lips are an abomination unto the Lord." 

Many incidents occurring in my own school have 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 343 

impressed and deepened these reflections. Let me give 
a case in point. 

"Come, Mary, the bell rang more than five minutes 
ago. Get up, or you '11 be punished for disobeying the 
rules," exclaimed Jane, as she seized the cover under 
which the indolent girl had buried herself. 

"Let me alone," cried Mary, angrily; "I shall sleep 
as long as I choose. But, look; now I am up" — and 
she jumped out upon the floor. "See, girls, I'm reg- 
ularly up!" 

They looked around, when, deliberately betaking her- 
self to bed, she prepared for a second nap. 

"Do you call that getting up?" 

"To be sure I do; did n't I get up?" 

"Suppose you should be asked if you arose when the 
bell rang, should you say yes?" 

"Yes; why not? I certainly did get up. Nothing is 
said in the rules about lying down again." 

"Well, that is a funny way of keeping the rules," 
said a little blue -eyed listener, who was putting on her 
shoes and stockings. "That 's keeping the rules, and 
not keeping them either. Well, I should follow your 
example if I were not almost dressed." 

"It 's a downright breaking of the rules," interposed 
Jane, "and nothing else." 

"It does seem so," said the little girl, who was under 
Jane's charge, and whose notions of right and wrong 
were not so clear as they should be; "and yet she did 
get up." 

"She obeys the letter," said the other, "but breaks 
the spirit of the law. The rule says we shall rise and 
dress when the bell rings, and attend to our morning 
duties." 



344 Julia A. Tevis. 

"Nonsense!" cried the sluggard, vexed in spite of 
herself at the serious manner in which her delinquency 
was regarded. "Who can be so particular as all that? 
What harm is there in sleeping when we want to? I am 
not afraid of your preaching." 

"No," said Jane; "but you ought to be afraid of 
doing wrong." 

This was sowing seed by the wayside, and some of it 
fell upon good ground ; for the little, earnest listener 
referred to received the truth, and it nestled in her heart 
like the dewdrop in the flower-cup. 

An hour passed. The prayer-bell rang ; and poor Mary, 
whose uneasy conscience permitted her to sleep but lightly, 
sprang up, and in great trepidation tried to dress in time; 
but her utmost efforts only enabled her to creep stealthily 
into the chapel and slide down on her knees, where, in- 
stead of praying, she was doubtless thinking how she 
could excuse her late appearance; and when called on 
she pleaded in excuse "a very bad headache," thus add- 
ing lying to disobedience. One sin always opens the way 
for another, and true it is, " Ce 11 est que' le premier pas 
qui eonte." 

Children of warm imagination are apt to view things 
through a deceptive medium. Turning away from the 
homely garb of truth, and trusting to their own unformed 
judgments, they launch out upon the perilous sea of ex- 
aggeration, without rudder or compass. Laughed at, 
flattered, and even admired by the silly and inconsid- 
erate, they sail for a while smoothly onward, rejecting 
the warnings, the admonitions, and the communicated 
experience of those who have observantly performed the 
voyage of life, until wrecked amid the storm and tempest 
of their own delusions. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 345 

There is but one way to secure that true elevation of 
character, which is, neither to "lie nor be associated with 
liars." Children's minds should be so rooted and 
grounded in the conviction of the truth of Divine Reve- 
lation that nothing earthly shall be able to shake their 
faith in the awful declaration, "Whosoever loveth and 
maketh a lie" shall have no right to the tree of life, nor 
shall they "enter in through the gates into the city." 

The all-pervading influence of my husband's consistent 
piety was felt in every department of our household. 
We tried from the beginning to make the Sabbath a 
means of securing more religious instruction than under 
ordinary circumstances. The Fourth Commandment was 
carefully enforced, as far as possible, upon all under our 
control. My good husband literally found the Sabbath 
"a delight," and not only by precept, but by example 
so eminently beautiful, taught others, " If thou turn away 
thy foot from the Sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on 
my holy day, then shalt thou delight thyself in the 
Lord," etc. 

Regarding the Sabbath-school as the nursery of the 
Church, we considered it a duty and privilege to promote 
its advancement. Every body belonging to the family 
and school, unless providentially hindered, was found 
there in place and in good time. I have often thought, 
as I listened to the. Sabbath-school children singing, that 
I would rather hear such a chorus of young voices than 
the most accomplished "prima donna" that ever dazzled 
and entranced the world. How sweetly does their sing- 
ing float around the heart and fill the soul with joy ! 
Nature has given to the human voice, when bursting in 
simple harmony from the spotless hearts of children, an 
irresistible power over our sympathies. "No ear so dull, 



346 Julia A. Tevis. 

no heart so cold," but must feel that nothing on earth is 
so thrilling as the musical tones with which they pour 
out their unchained spiriis. 

I have superintended and taught during the Sunday- 
school hour for many years, but I can truly say, I do not 
remember ever to have spent an irksome moment there. 
They have been practically, as well as poetically, rosy 
hours — hours that have gone to heaven to bear a good 
report, I trust, for my own soul as well as the souls of 
my pupils. 

Eveiy body attended Church at eleven o'clock, and 
this was a fact so well understood, that few and feeble 
were the attempts made to evade it. We had children 
from families of all denominations, yet I was never sec- 
tarian enough to wish to proselyte from other Churches 
into my own; but my boarders attended the Methodist 
Church, that they might be generally, as Avell as particu- 
larly, under my supervision. Some were permitted, occa- 
sionally, to attend the Churches in which they were 
brought up or to which they belonged, under proper 
surveillance. 

Having myself been accustomed to attend Church 
twice on the Sabbath, I felt the necessity of substituting 
something that would employ the girls for an hour in 
religious exercises in the afternoon, as our second Church 
service was at night. I formed, therefore, a Bible Class 
for my boarders, giving to externs the privilege of 
attending, which many of them gladly embraced. To 
render the hour pleasant as possible, after passing over 
one or two chapters selected as topics, the girls were 
encouraged to relate something from their own expe- 
rience, or that they had read — incidents, anecdotes, or 
short poetical recitations, all having a religious bearing. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 347 

By this means, many of them acquired a store of relig- 
ious knowledge which told for good upon their future 
lives. This Bible Class has been kept up, without 
interruption, during vacation as well as term time, and 
generally with the happiest results. No one was ever 
excused from the class, but the rest of the afternoon 
might be spent as each one chose, with the restriction 
of being quiet. Of course, they were never permitted 
to study or attend to any of their weekly duties, nor 
were they compelled to attend the Church service at 
night. The influence of endeavoring to keep this holy 
day was felt not only throughout our own establishment 
but extended itself to the community. 



348 Julia A. Tevis. 



Chapter XXIX. 

In the Fall of 1826 began my acquaintance and 
friendly intercourse with the family of Mr. Charles 
Wickliffe. Elizabeth was placed under our care at the 
age of eleven. There was something in the very appear- 
ance of this young girl that instantly awakened my inter- 
est. She had no self-confidence, and was so entirely 
dependent upon those around her, that she clung closely 
to my side in and out of school. Isolated occupations 
were irksome to her; she preferred even to study with a 
bevy of girls around her, and could enjoy no pleasure 
unless shared with another. Loving, amiable, and oblig- 
ing, she seemed born "to be the shadow of another 
soul." I shall never forget her introduction and how she 
clung to her father as if afraid to let go his hand. 
There she stood, — her timid face, though beaming - with 
good humor, suffused with blushes, — her voice when she 
spoke scarcely audible from emotion. When her father 
left, commending her to my special care, she would have 
followed him had I not gently restrained her, but in 
a few days she was thoroughly domesticated. She 
remained with us several years, spending only her vaca- 
tions at home. There was a winning simplicity of man- 
ner about this lovely girl, that drew me towards her 
more and more until, when she left school, I felt as if I 
had parted from one of my own children. Her love for 
us was life-long, and at her death, which occurred a few 
years after a happy marriage, she gave the strongest evi- 



Sixty Years in a School-room 349 

dence she could, of her continued affection, by asking 
that her youngest sister should be named for me. She 
was lovely in her life, admirable in every relation she 
sustained; possessing that meek and quiet spirit, which, 
in the sight of God, is above all price. She died, cut 
off in her "youth and beauty's bloom," leaving a mem- 
ory embalmed in the hearts of all who knew her, and 
went to enjoy in full fruition, the blessing pronounced 
upon the pure in heart. 

Mr. Wickliffe's five daughters were principally edu- 
cated at our school, and certainly women more lovely, 
more worthy of respect and esteem never blessed Amer- 
ican homes, or adorned society; and I proudly recognize 
them as among my most loved and cherished pupils — the 
remembrance of whom brings light to my eyes and 
warmth to my heart. 

To this family is due some of the happiest hours of 
my Kentucky life; and though this is not the place for 
eulogy, yet a sincere appreciation of these my life-long 
friends, induces me to say that Mr. Wickliffe's real worth 
as a private citizen, independent of his public career, for 
that belongs to history, has been felt and acknowledged 
by all who have known him. Unlike many of our great- 
est statesmen, his private life is a model for imitation ; 
unstained as it has ever been, by moral pollution of any 
kind, and marked by a truthfulness and sincerity result- 
ing from the strong religious reverence investing his soul, 
Mr. Wickliffe's eminent characteristics have ever been 
fast fidelity to his friends, and a tenderness which ren- 
dered his presence agreeable and cheering in every do- 
mestic relation; thus dignifying every position he occu- 
pied by his high moral character, and adorning every 
sphere in which he moved. 

23 



35° Julia A. Tevis. 

Mrs. Wickliffe was connected by marriage with my 
husband's family, and when I first knew her was in the 
full bloom of matronly beauty. Her face was rendered 
singularly attractive by eyes into whose depths one 
might gaze with the certainty that they were wells of 
thought and feeling; these, though possessing a gazelle- 
like softness in repose, in animated conversation spark- 
led like gems in the heaven of intellect. Her nose was 
finely formed, and around her delicately chiseled mouth 
a sweet smile forever lingered; and even when her finely 
set lips showed strength and decision, benevolence beamed 
from every lineament of her face. Her conversation 
was characterized by a delicate and respectful regard for 
the feelings of others. None, even the most insignifi- 
cant, ever spent an hour with her in conversation with- 
out feeling a degree of importance and self-complacency 
never felt before. With an exquisite poetical taste, she 
always kept embalmed in her memory some of the finest 
selections from the best authors, while the varied and 
extensive information acquired by reading made her an 
entertaining companion and a choice friend. 

Her figure, of medium height, was full of grace, and 
every movement a combination of ease and elegance, 
which is, perhaps, the most distinguished proof of a 
noble mind; and which we never fail to attribute to the 
consciousness of good birth and breeding. Mrs. Wick- 
liffe was noted for her unostentatious benevolence and 
unusual kindness to the poor. "When the ear heard her, 
then it blessed her; and when the eye saw her, it gave 
witness to her, because she delivered the poor that cried, 
and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him. 
The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon 
her, and she caused the widow's heart to sing for joy." 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 351 

Truly her heart was alive with religious feeling and a 
constant recognition of Bible truth. 

Long years of unchanging friendship, unfettered by 
the cold formalities of the world, endeared me to Mrs. 
Wickliffe more than words can express. A constant 
interchange of affection and feeling kept alive the flame 
of love upon the heart's consecrated altar; and, thank 
heaven, it stood the test of years, undimmed by even a 
passing cloud. But words are both idle and insufficient, 
and no flourish of sentiment is needed where the heart 
is concerned. My beloved friend passed over Jordan in 
December, 1863 — "gone like a dream of light and life." 
Yes, and, as fond memory dwells on the delightful asso- 
ciations of the past, the image of this dear friend comes 
up warm and glowing. I almost feel the spirit-breath 
stirring my time-bleached locks — the vision 

"Wears no cold livery of earth, 
But shows the brightness of its birth, 
And links my soul to heaven!" 

I too have changed; the world has wrought its chilling 
task on me; yet friend after friend departing forms one 
more tie to bind my spirit to its home. 

Our first visit abroad was during the vacation of 1826, 
at the house of a relative, Judge Davidge. It was the 
season for enjoyment, and we were in the right mood, 
and in the right place. How keenly we appreciate rest 
and liberty after long application to business, however 
pleasant our duties may have been; and how different 
from the rest, if it may be so termed, that follows the 
dissipated routine of fashionable idleness. 

I have always been remarkable for an elasticity of 
spirit following a release from close confinement. Our 
road was through a rich country, and my happy soul 



352 Julia A. Tevis. 

invested every green tree, whose expanding branches 
were flung out upon the air, with a beautiful mystery. 
Its web of glossy leaves, interwoven with sunshine, was 
looked upon with a blended feeling of reverence and 
devotion, as I rejoiced in the perfection of the works 
of God; and my heart exclaimed, "My Father made 
them all." 

Our hostess was a charming woman in the fullest 
sense of the word. Though in the maturity of woman- 
hood, she still had a complexion delicately fair, and a 
brow as calm and noble as on her bridal day. Health 
and contentment shone in her well-defined and harmo- 
nious features. There was nothing of hurry and bustle 
in her household arrangements, and no undue excitement 
no matter how great the number of guests. Her man- 
ner was gentle and decided, and I never heard her speak 
in a loud tone of voice. She practiced in an eminent 
degree those two duties which run through the Christian 
life like the warp through the woof — "blessing and 
trusting." 

When religion flourishes in the soul, it knows how to 
naturalize spiritual things, and how to spiritualize natural 
things. Mrs. Davidge — and all the country around would 
indorse what I say — was a rare instance of one who 
mingled with the world without being of it, — often 
struggling with domestic cares and perplexities, and 
courageously meeting sorrow, having before I knew her 
been deprived by death of more than half her numerous 
family of children. At one time she buried five in two 
weeks; but during all this her faith failed not, and she 
was never known to "charge God foolishly." Living in 
the world she had stemmed the tide of its ungodliness 
unsullied by its impurities, and without making ship- 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 353 

wreck of her hopes. In the genial atmosphere of her 
own home she flourished, a model of all that is excellent 
in woman. 

Judge Davidge presented a fine specimen of our Ken- 
tucky gentlemen under the old regime. He was well 
known and highly esteemed in his official capacity as 
circuit judge, under the old Constitution, before the good 
people of Kentucky had turned upside down our most 
stable foundations, and left us afloat upon the dangerous 
sea of excessive liberty. Under the old Constitution a 
man had time to practice his profession after he learned 
it, to the edification and benefit of the community; now 
he scarcely recovers from the excitement of his election 
and takes his seat in the curule chair before he is ejected 
by a new-comer. 

The general character of the Judge's physiognomy 
was intelligence, and that perfect self-possession born of 
a feeling of superiority. A profound metaphysician, his 
logic and rhetoric were of the true Baconian school. He 
presided with great dignity on the bench, and never per- 
mitted the slightest disrespect to his official character, — 
governed the jury with unflinching severity, and has been 
known upon several occasions, when they could not come 
to a decision in time, to take them all around the circuit 
with him. He was highly esteemed for true patriotism 
and statesmanlike qualities. His friendship, once secured, 
never failed, and in truth, though he lived above com- 
monplace things, was warm, generous, and social. Such 
friendships did the providence of God lead me to form — 
friendships which will run parallel with the day of eternity. 

I learned useful lessons from Mrs. Davidge with regard 
to the training of children. She thought me too strict 
and too watchful over my little boy, and, in fact, too 



354 Julia A. Tevis. 

much disposed to find fault with trifles. Experience had 
taught her that a little wholesome neglect was sometimes 
beneficial, and that this might be combined with real care 
and never-ceasing watchfulness. "It does wonders," 
said she, "in the work of setting human beings on their 
feet for the life journey." To educate children is to act 
constantly upon their impressible natures. Education 
ought to be the object of home — education by example 
as well as precept. To inculcate truthfulness you must 
not make them afraid of you. A confiding, trusting 
child will receive punishment as readily from a kind 
parent as he will enjoy reward from the same source. 

How deep the lessons of a mother's love, the influ- 
ence of which is felt long, long after the lips that uttered 
them are sealed in the silence of the tomb ! In this fam- 
ily religion was not altogether a Sunday garment — a robe 
too fine for common wear, put on solemnly once a week 
as upon state occasions, and gladly laid aside when the 
occasion was over. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 355 



Chapter XXX. 

Childhood ! O blessed childhood ! though quickly 
passing away like the falling of a shadow on the 
floor, we look back fondly upon it, ' ' blossom of being, 
seen and gone." 

Our second child, a lovely little girl, was dying. 
Even now I can not revert to that day, though nearly 
forty years have elapsed, without anguish of soul. This 
lotus-blossom from the shores of the River of Life, des- 
tined to bloom for the short space of twenty-two months, 
exhaling its fragrance throughout our household, had filled 
my cup of happiness to the very brim. 

Little Mary was born Sunday, January 15, 1827, and 
died on Sunday, November 30, 1828. My husband bore 
the loss with the humble resignation of a Christian ; but 
he missed the little pattering feet that often followed 
him to his private devotions, kneeling down close by his 
side, echoing his sighs as if participating in his fervent 
prayers, — never growing weary or impatient, no matter 
how prolonged his stay. 

My grief, at first, was almost beyond control. Noth- 
ing but the Bible, which I kept almost constantly open 
before me, or the soothing voice of my husband in 
prayer, could fit me for my daily duties. 

We often talk of our submission to God in the sun- 
shine, and then resist and struggle when the storm arises. 

Our Southern pupils from this time began to increase 
in number; and as the institution became known abroad 



356 Julia A. Tevis. 

through the medium of those sent forth from under its 
care, "epistles to be known and read," there was a grad- 
ual influx from the surrounding States. Up to this time, 
and for some years afterwards, we issued no circulars and 
published no catalogues, simply advertising the time for 
the opening and closing of the school in the NeAV York 
and Western Christian Advocates. When it became gen- 
erally known that a Protestant school was located in Shel- 
byville, it shared much of the patronage formerly be- 
stowed upon the Catholic schools of Kentucky, among 
which Nazareth, situated near Bardstown, was the most 
conspicuous, and deservedly the most highly appreciated. 

Ours was the first Protestant female academy founded 
in the Mississippi Valley, except that of the Rev. Mr. 
Fall, situated in Nashville, which antedates it a few years. 
Mr. Fall afterwards removed to Kentucky, and located 
near Frankfort, in one of the most enchanting places I 
ever saw, reminding one of the Happy Valley of Rasselas. 
Mr. Fall was eminently fitted for his lofty calling, not 
only as an educated man, but by his aptness for teaching 
and power of communicating knowledge. The many 
accomplished and well-educated young ladies from this 
institution prove his faithful diligence and consequent 
success as a teacher. 

For years we had semi-annual examinations and two 
vacations, — one in February, the other in August. This 
was the custom in Kentucky, and we adopted it without 
reflecting upon its inconvenience. Every vacation we 
found it necessary to improve and extend our buildings; 
for each succeeding term the number of boarders was 
increased. We tried at first to limit our school, but were 
unsuccessful, there being generally no limit except want 
of room. I would greatly have preferred no externs, but 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 357 

that could not be, as we were under obligations to the 
town and vicinity. Much care was exercised in regulat- 
ing our terms so as to leave an open door for those in 
moderate circumstances; and we endeavored always to 
promote a prudent economy in our arrangements, while 
we left no means untried and spared no expense to pro- 
mote the highest interests of education. Our ambition 
was not to accumulate wealth, though we wished remu- 
neration, but to render the school a blessing to the rising 
generation, — and certainly we have not been altogether 
disappointed. 

Teaching should be considered as a profession, and 
the loftiest calling except that of preaching the Gospel. 
To communicate moral and religious truth is the very 
noblest employment of an intelligent being. Teachers, 
as well as preachers, should never sigh for that ease which 
some think so "friendly to life's decline." 

During the first ten or fifteen years of my teaching in 
Shelbyville girls cared much less for personal adornment, 
and studied with a more hearty good-will, than at any 
time since; whilst I took the greatest pains possible to 
cultivate as much taste for dress as was compatible with 
the highest intellectual improvement. I remember but 
few girls during the period referred to that gave me much 
trouble on this score. Those with the most limited ward- 
robes were the best students, as well as the neatest in 
dress. A well-cultivated mind scorns tawdry finery, and 
teaches us the refining truth that cleanliness is next to 
godliness. 

Much annoyance was felt the first few years by invita- 
tions through the medium of the post-office to parties 
and balls — a custom prevalent in all the little towns of 
Kentucky, but fatal to good scholarship, making fashion- 



35S Julia A. Tevis. 

able young ladies of children from the ages of ten to 
fifteen. They were, in fact, the society of the place; 
married women, no matter how young, were never invited 
to places of amusement, and a girl of eighteen or twenty 
was quite passee. I tried to change the custom as far as 
my school was concerned, by returning the billets un- 
opened; this failing of the desired effect, I sent for the 
managers and expressed in plain terms my wishes and 
intentions, requesting them, at the same time, not to 
make another attempt for it would always prove useless. 
My kind but positive manner had the desired effect ; and 
I would take this opportunity to say, for the benefit 
of those who preside over female institutions, where 
there are also male schools and colleges, that a candid, 
open course pursued towards both boys and girls will 
generally break up any clandestine communications. 
This will cultivate a high moral sense of personal respon- 
sibility, and, under strict surveillance, give a security not 
obtained by any other means. Let there be no mystery 
and as little suspicion as possible. 

Our school and family were proverbial for health; no 
bad colds were taken from sitting up in rooms insuffi- 
ciently warmed and dawdling about half dressed. Some 
persons have expressed their surprise that the girls pre- 
ferred to study together in the school-room, and were 
more successful in their recitations. Two good reasons 
may be assigned for this. One, that the teacher is ever 
at the desk, ready to solve any knotty question and aid 
the timid inquirer; the other, it prevents interruption 
from the idle, noisy, and trifling. 

Our family habits were regulated according to the 
strictest notions of Joshua's resolution, "As for me and 
my house we will serve the Lord." No one could be 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 359 

absent from family prayers without a good excuse. So 
well practiced was Mr. Tevis's eye that a glance around 
the chapel enabled him to detect the absence of a single 
girl. His devotional spirit rendered his manner so 
impressive as to prevent any tendency to levity during 
family worship; and, indeed, it mattered not how full 
of fun and frolic the girls might be, his appearance pro- 
duced a serious and respectful quietness among them, 
for all loved and honored him. In his religious char- 
acter, an ardent and steady zeal for the promotion of the 
good of the Church predominated, combined with an 
unswerving faith in those evangelical doctrines which 
gave special unction and energy to his conversation, to 
his prayers and to his discourses. 

Mr. Tevis was as much a preacher of righteousness at 
home as abroad, and we had the blessed privilege of 
knowing that impressions were made from time to time 
upon the hearts of our pupils, which wrought a happy 
change in temper and character. Many a careless one, 
who came into our family thoughtless and indifferent as 
to her soul's welfare, left either an humble penitent or a 
true convert to Christianity. Some have gone forth as 
missionaries of the Cross among their own people, and 
to bless the world by their pious example. Sunday- 
schools have been established in the far South ; Churches 
founded in desolate places have brought many a truant 
heart to God, and scores have been led to worship their 
Creator, who had previously burned incense only upon 
the altar of mammon. 

I may, without boasting, glory in the fact that the 
institution has always been self-sustaining, never having 
had any endowment nor appropriation from the Meth- 
odist Church nor any other source except the well-earned 



360 Julia A. Tevis. 

tuition fees. It is but justice to add, however, that we 
have lived in an enlightened community, and among a 
people who gladly embraced the opportunity of sustaining 
such a school by a hearty and liberal patronage. 

During the Conference in 1828, held again in Shelby- 
ville, I became acquainted with several of our senior 
bishops — M'Kendree, Roberts, and Soule. The first had 
always been a warm personal friend of my husband, and 
highly appreciating his services as an itinerant, did not 
seem to approve his remaining permanently stationed as 
the superintendent of an Academy. He expressed his 
fears in his own peculiar, laconic manner, "Act in haste 
and repent at leisure — and take care of the world, 
brother;" but he afterwards most heartily coincided with 
Mr. Tevis and the Conference, that it was right and best 
for him and the Church — regarding the school as a nur- 
sery to the Church. 

Bishop M'Kendree's feeble and declining health left 
Bishop Roberts to preside, and Bishop Soule was merely 
in attendance. They all came to tea with us one evening, 
and I was anxious to make a good impression upon these 
high dignitaries of the Church, especially upon Bishop 
M'Kendree, the only bachelor among them. He, like 
Bishop Asbury, had never been willing to acknowledge 
that a good wife was a good thing, and felt, that though 
it was right for some to marry, it was better for others to 
remain in single blessedness. 

I determined to bring to bear all my tact in good 
housekeeping — which, by the by, was very little — in 
honor of my distinguished guests, and spent so much 
time in the supervision of my supper-table, displaying to 
the best advantage a small service of china, cut-glass, and 
silver that I lost the opportunity of profiting by the 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 361 

rich experience and heavenly conversation of these holy- 
men of God. Imagine my mortification when, seated at 
the head of the table, heated by over-exertion, my face 
glowing like a peony, to hear Bishop M'Kendree say, as 
he declined every offered delicacy, and devoted himself 
to a corn-cake with a glass of milk and water, privately 
prepared at his own request, "But one thing is needful, 
sister." I thought I could see a lurking smile in his mild 
reproving eye, and the lesson was not lost. 

Notwithstanding this contretemps I think the Bishop 
afterwards knew me well enough to believe that I fully 
sustained the pledge made at the time of my marriage — 
"never by word or deed to throw any impediment in my 
husband's way as a preacher of the Gospel;" and that I 
always felt in my heart what I professed at the begin- 
ning, "that I would rather be the wife of a faithful 
itinerant preacher than to wear a jeweled crown and be 
dressed in purple and gold." I believed in the promise 
added to the blessed admonition, "Seek first the king- 
dom of heaven." 

Though I saw Bishop M'Kendree often afterwards — 
for he never came to Shelbyville without visiting us, — I 
heard him preach but twice, once at a camp-meeting with 
"a tented army of pilgrims to eternity" before him. 
His text was, "Ephraim is joined to his idols, let him 
alone." He first portrayed the repeated effort made by 
the Spirit of God to call the sinner to repentance; and in 
accents softened by the emotions of his own heart, 
uttered the Scripture admonition, "Turn ye, turn ye, 
why will ye die!" until he excited the deepest interest in 
his hearers, touching a chord that vibrated through every 
heart. Then he drew a life-like picture of the obstinate, 
worldly-minded man who, steadily refusing all calls to 



362 Julia A. Tevis. 

repentance, rejects the allurements of heaven, the flat- 
teries of the world and its deceitful riches rendering his 
frozen heart impervious to the sunshine that floods the 
earth and skies so graciously. His doom is sealed, his 
heart seared. The earth pours its riches in abundance, 
the rain and the dew nurture his vineyards and crown the 
year with fatness; plenty reigns in his house, and his 
barns are bursting forth with the golden harvest; but 
then comes the awful voice in the stillness of the mid- 
night hour, "Thou fool, this night thy soul shall be 
required of thee." The effect upon the audience was 
electrical, and many dated their return to the shepherd 
and bishop of their souls from that hour. His imagery 
was beautiful, his illustrations perfect. 

Once again, in the old "White Church" of blessed 
memory, he was illustrating the gradual influx of divine 
light into the soul. "See," said he, "that window with 
its half-closed shutters, admitting but few rays of light. 
Open it a little more, and you will see objects more 
distinctly; a little more still, and you will not fail to see 
how indecently the men treat the floor." Every tobacco 
chewer instantly cast his eyes in that direction ; they felt 
the reproof, and there was no more spitting during that 
sermon. This apparent step from the sublime to the 
ridiculous was characteristic of the Bishop. 

His success as a preacher was not owing to grace of 
manner, nor richness of voice, nor fullness of matter; 
but that indescribable unction obtained by prayer, pro- 
found meditation upon divine truths, and a deep convic- 
tion of the overwhelming importance of eternal things, — 
that anointing of the Holy Spirit which no man can 
counterfeit, and no audience mistake. Inspired with the 
utmost desire for the salvation of souls, his thoughts 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 263 

kindled into living flames, and his words fell upon the 
ears of his hearers with irresistible power. His plain, 
unaffected manners, simplicity of character, singleness of 
purpose, and the purity of his life made a profound im- 
pression upon every community in which he preached. 
His religion had no mixture of coldness, no exclusive- 
ness, no bigotry. "The Holy Truth walked ever by his 
side." Independence of thought and action towards men 
was mingled with the deepest humility and reverence to- 
wards God. The frailties of others were regarded with 
gentleness and pity, but he was a rigid disciplinarian to- 
wards himself; and though of a feeble constitution, 
fasted much, often for a whole day at a time. He be- 
lieved in St. Paul's admonition — "keep the body under." 
Upon one occasion, failing to preach in a manner satis- 
factory to himself, he determined to eat no meat during 
one weary round of his parochial district, though this 
kind of nourishment was best suited to his state of health. 

He possessed much of that dry wit that sometimes 
disturbs the quiet equanimity of the most serious. Once 
overtaken in a lonely ride by an inquisitive countryman, 
after the usual interchange of wayside courtesies, a 
monotonous silence ensued, interrupted by the trot, trot, 
jogtrot of the travelers' horses. At last, 

"Where mout yer be goin', mister?" to the Bishop. 

"About and about," was the laconic reply. 

Another grave pause of painful intensity, and 

"Conclude to get home to-night?" 

"No." 

Another mile through the mud, and our "quidnunc," 
with inflexible perseverance, tried him again. 

"Well, stranger, where do you live?" 

"About and about," said the Bishop. 



364 Julia A. Tevis. 

The man's heart failed him, and the mysterious silence 
continued until their roads separated, when the baffled 
questioner whipped up his horse and soon lost sight of 
his companion. 

When I recall the image of this holy apostle, the light 
of heaven seems to shine around me. He was so pure 
and noble, that when in conducting family prayers he 
raised his eyes full of devotion from the sacred volume, 
and lifted his hands, saying, "Let us pray," I felt that 
the gates of heaven were thrown wide open, and that he 
had access to a throne of grace through a living faith in 
the Redeemer, and that we were all in the exalted pres- 
ence of the angels of mercy. 

Bishop Roberts frequently tarried with us as he passed 
to and fro. Many happy reminiscences of a life-long 
itinerancy are connected with his visits. His genial, 
cheerful conversation always amused and interested his 
hearers. As a pioneer preacher, he was well acquainted 
with the history of the Methodist Church, from the time 
it was but a handful in the wilderness — feeble, struggling 
through poverty and opposition, yet led onward by the 
pillar of fire by night, and shielded by the friendly cloud 
from the blaze of persecution by day. He had lived to 
see her come up through tribulation, "looking forth as 
the morning, fair as the moon, clear as the sun, and ter- 
rible as an army with banners," a blessing to multiplied 
thousands. He went forth among the aborgines, on the 
outskirts of civilization, and preached the unsearchable 
riches of Christ to those dark sons of the forest, perish- 
ing for the bread of life. I have often heard him say 
that the poor heathen Avhen converted were Christians of 
the noblest stamp ; showing that the salvation offered by 
the Gospel is not the prize of lofty intellect, but of a 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 365 

penitent soul and a lowly mind. The truth, as it is in 
Jesus, is in one view so profound, that the highest arch- 
angel's intellect may be lost in the contemplation of its 
mysterious depths; in another, so simple that the lisping 
babe at its mother's knee may learn its meaning. 

The heart of Bishop Roberts was the seat of all those 
emotions that sweeten human life, adorn our nature, and 
diffuse a nameless charm over existence. I was not per- 
sonally acquainted with his excellent wife, but she was said 
to be in every way suitable as a companion for this holy 
man. They had no children ; yet the providence of God 
gave them seventeen or eighteen nephews and nieces to 
bring up in the fear and admonition of the Lord. Both 
the Bishop and his wife manifested the exquisite simplic- 
ity of the essential facts and principles of our holy relig- 
ion. They were co-laborers in the Lord's vineyard, 
working for the salvation of souls, "till the busy wheels 
of life stood still." Sister Roberts outlived the Bishop 
several years, an honored resident of Greencastle, Indi- 
ana, where she was tenderly loved and watched over by 
many devoted friends. Ready and willing hands were 
always at her service, but she would be chargeable to no 
one so long as her hands and feet could perform their 
accustomed offices. Her life was a simple, consecrated 
one; she served God faithfully all her days, and has gone 
to that home where day and night divide his work 
no more. 

Among the sacred pictures treasured in the gallery of 
my heart, I would fain select another, Bishop Soule — a 
tall, grave-looking man of noble presence, with a steady, 
determined sort of face, resembling a granite pillar of 
magnificent proportions. The Bishop had a "touch-me- 
not" sort of stateliness of manner, yet he was neither 

24 



366 Julia A. Tevis. 

stiff nor freezing; and though as uncompromising with 
the world as St. Paul himself, he had a strong perception 
of the beautiful, both in nature and in art, which enriched 
his highly cultivated mind with the brightest jewels of 
intellect. He might have been a harsh man had he not 
been a Christian. Emanations from the heart always 
soften the asperities of the natural character. He was 
kind, but never familiar; polite and social, but guarded 
well the dignity of his episcopal office. Christianity, 
instead of sinking the distinctions of society, elevates and 
guards them, and employs the most sublime truths to 
enforce the minutest offices of social life. A rude, un- 
civil man, of an unsympathizing nature, is not one in 
whom holy emotions are likely to dwell; and yet there 
may rest, in the humblest laborer's heart, a spirit that 
dignifies the coarsest toil, and renders drudgery divine. 

Bishop Soule was sometimes abrupt in his candid, 
laconic speech, but never yielded to anger, and never 
condescended to be irritable. He did not win friends as 
rapidly as Bishop Roberts or Bishop M'Kendree, yet 
those who knew him well, loved and admired him above 
all others. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 367 



Chapter XXXI. 

I am well aware that the minute details of a school- 
room are apt to be tiresome, yet a teacher who has 
spent a life-time in the vocation need not look abroad 
for interesting matter. Before the channel of education 
became deep and broad as it is now, we had much more 
raw material to work upon from the far distant West and 
South. Some queer specimens of girls, who had "come 
up" pretty much of themselves, and who had, from child- 
hood's happy hours, reveled in idleness and ignorance, 
were brought to us. Dull, mentally and spiritually, 
neither sheen of silks nor sparkle of jewels, piled upon 
and scattered over them by wealthy papas and mammas, 
could render them other than rough and ungainly — igno- 
rant of the very first principles of literature. Upon these 
I was expected to do a variety of polishing, removing, 
as with a magic wand, the accumulated rust of fifteen or 
sixteen years; giving a "finishing touch," as the}' called 
it, in three or five months. 

Just such a Kentucky girl was introduced to me 
one bright September morning by her mother. "Here, 
ma'rm, is my daughter; I calculate to send her not more 
than three months, and I want you to push her just as fast 
as you can, because you see she are sixteen year old now. 
She talks grammar proper enough — knows all about 
geography, and is been a readin', and a writin', and 
spellin', dear knows how long ; so she need n't waste no 
time in the likes o' that. If she do n't know enough of 



368 Julia A. Tevis. 

'em she can larn 'em at home, and she wants to go in the 
tip-top class and not be a foolin' away her time." 

"I examine my pupils, madam, when they enter 
school, and place them just where, in m} r judgment, 
they will improve the most; we never class a girl accord- 
ing to her age, nor the number of books she has gone 
through, but in keeping with the real knowledge she 
possesses." 

"That'll do when they've a good while to come 
to school, but my daughter 's old enough to be keepin' 
company noiv, and I don't Avant her to be a studyin' all 
her life, /got along mighty well without any education." 

"What do you propose to have her learn, madam? 
Arithmetic." 

She interrupted me quickly, "No, no, she ciphers 
Avell enough, and, if she don't, her brother can larn her 
that; she wants to know philosophy, chemistry, and 
astronomy, and the likes o' that. She might take a 
spell in writin' compositions and larn in' geometry and 
what you call algebray — and I want her to keep on a 
studyin' an' singin,' and the rest o' the time she can take 
up with studyin' the piany. I don't want her to study 
no French, nor none of the other dead languages; 
she talks fast enough without any o' that outlandish 
gibberish." 

You may be sure I dreaded the daughter after these 
special directions from the mother. I do not think she 
stayed six weeks with us. 

Engaged in a round of occupations that admitted of 
no leisure hours, with a heart fully devoted to my duties, 
weeks and months sped rapidly by ; and though time did 
occasionally cast a shadow from his wings when in my 
busy school-room, all was forgotten beyond its limits. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 369 

That was my world, there I gave instruction, and thence I 
drew lessons of experience which rendered me, from year 
to year, a more efficient teacher. There I learned to 
moralize, as the painful conviction forced itself upon me, 
thus: "How strange it is, and not more strange than 
true, that so few parents in this Christian land, where the 
Gospel light is shining with noon-day splendor, lighting 
up every niche and corner of their habitations, should 
be so slow to enforce the Bible admonition in reference 
to the early instructions of children by precept and exam- 
ple. " In some families children are regarded as stum- 
bling-blocks, in the way of thrifty mothers — and, in the 
habitations of the gay, the wealthy, and the fashionable, 
as soulless pets. I have heard the argument strictly 
maintained among sensible people, "Oh! do not trouble 
them with this everlasting teaching, they '11 have enough 
of it when they go to school; let them enjoy life while 
they are young!" I have known parents, who studiously 
avoided throwing any impediment in the way of the indul- 
gence of all sorts of selfishness for fear of seeing a frown 
upon the brow of their children, leaving their minds 
almost a perfect blank, so far as duty was concerned ; or 
worse, filled with false impressions and precocious wick- 
edness. Children are a study for the most acute mind. 
In them we find the natural movements of the soul — 
intense with new life and busy after truth. They are all 
sensation, and their wakeful senses are ever drinking in 
from the common sun and air; every sound is taken note 
of by the ear; every floating shadow and passing form 
comes and touches the sleeping eye; little circumstances 
in the material world about them must be the instructors 
and formers of their characters for life ; hence the necessity 
for that constant watching and teaching the Bible speaks 



37o ' Julia A. Tbvis. 

of — making them know and desire what is right, rather 
than what is agreeable; teaching them so as not to lose 
the distinction between principle and selfish gratification. 
All selfishness hardens the heart ; but there is no kind 
which hardens it so effectually as that weak indulgence 
which permits a child to have its own way, rather 
than take the trouble to correct, restrain, and punish, if 
need be. 

Many came into our family from year to year who 
required to be taught the simplest rudiments of religious 
knowledge, for they were as destitute of any right views 
of God, and of his claims on their hearts, as if they had 
been born in the jungles of India, or amid the deserts 
of Africa. It was our incessant study, and particularly 
that of my husband, to present the Scriptures in such 
a manner as to attract their attention and, without fa- 
tiguing, interest their minds. All Mr. Tevis's teaching 
was directed to this one great purpose. History and 
science, all the daily changes and trials of life, were 
rendered subservient; and, above all and over all, was 
continually recognized the hand of God, their Creator, 
whose eye was ever upon them, observing their conduct, 
and desirous, above all things, that his erring children 
should return to him and receive the sweet assurance 
of his forgiveness through Jesus Christ. The law of God 
was made the rule of daily life ; his Word the standard 
by which every act, motive, and principle was judged ; 
and his favor and approbation the highest good. When 
the mind has no employment, the affections are apt to 
be dormant; when the head is vacant the heart is often 
cold. Man)", when first brought under the restraints of 
a school, regard it as decided tyranny to require their 
regular attendance at Church and Sunday-school; and 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 371 

often an imaginary headache, gotten up for the occasion, 
has kept a girl at home, when her bonnet, cloak, or 
some other trifling accompaniment was not in keeping 
with her wishes. They had been accustomed to do what 
seemed good in their own eyes. Yet, under all these 
disadvantages, combined with the early neglect of literary 
culture, I found scores of quick and ready scholars, with 
retentive memories, and minds ready for the acquisition 
of religious as well as literary knowledge. 

A teacher should never make a requisition that can 
not be enforced. To threaten a punishment, and then 
contrive in some indirect way to abate its vigor, destroys 
its good effect. The most noble character may be 
marred by a too yielding habit in matters of conscience; 
a want of moral courage is injurious, not only to our- 
selves, but to all under our authority. Induct into the 
mind the solemn fact that martyrdom in the cause 
of truth and uprightness deserves our envy rather than 
our pity. 



372 Julia A. Tevis. 



Chapter XXXII. 

Our second son, with his bright, wide-open eyes, by 
the time he had attained the wise age of four years, 
became so perfectly acquainted with the topography of 
his home and its immediate surroundings that there was 
no terra incognita, no mystery in or about the establish- 
ment, that he had not solved — save one; and that was a 
cistern without a pump, and with only a trap-door through 
which the water might be drawn up. It was near the 
laundry, and on forbidden ground to children. He had, 
time and again, watched the old washerwoman drawing 
water from it, but was never near enough to examine it. 
His nurse scarcely ever lost sight of him long enough to 
give him time for exploration; but it so happened, one 
day, that he slipped quietly away to the forbidden spot, 
and, finding the old woman's back turned, stepped noise- 
lessly along, and in his haste to peep down plunged in 
head-foremost. A splash, and then the fall of the trap- 
door — no scream, nor any other noise ; but the old woman 
knew instinctively that the curious child was in the cis- 
tern, which contained about ten feet of water ! She raised 
a cry of terror as she tore off the loose planks and 
shouted for a ladder. The only one on the place was at 
the stable, some distance off. A servant-man went for it. 
Meantime my mother reached the cistern, caught the 
child's eye, which was soon faxed steadily upon that dear 
familiar face with a mute appeal for help. He had sunk 
once and risen to the surface, — his blue woolen slip and 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 373 

trowsers were strong and not easily saturated with water, 
and his upper garment, floating, helped to bear him up. 

" Keep your hands down, son; paddle, paddle — hands 
under water — that's a brave boy! Swim, swim! the 
ducks swim." 

Her voice trembled — he was sinking. 

"Come, Joe; come quick! Put down the ladder." 

In his trepidation he struck the child. Down — down 
he went; up again instantly, and was caught by the 
strong arm of the man just as he was about to disappear. 
In a minute more the drowning child was in the arms of 
his grandmother, but totally unconscious. 

To rub and roll him in warm blankets was the work 
of a few minutes, and soon he quietly slept, with renewed 
life and restored sensation. 

"Why, Bob," said his grandfather, who was watching 
his returning consciousness, "what did you do in the 
cistern ?' 

"O danfather, I thus fum like a duck," was his reply. 

A hearty laugh from the old gentleman was the finale 
to this disaster. 

From that good hour we eschewed cisterns without 
pumps. 

About this time, in the year 1832, a little orphan girl 
was placed under my care; and she came like a gleam 
of light across the the shadow of memory to fill in some 
measure the void in our hearts made by the death of our 
precious little daughter, though we did not forget "our 
buried one that calmly rested under the daisies ;" and I 
often felt, even in my happiest hours, an intense yearning 
for that spirit-land where she had gone in all the freshness 
of her budding loveliness, — that happy place where all is 
bright and glorious. 



374 Julia A. Tevis. 

This dear little pet of the household became to me a 
daughter, and to my children a sister. There was some- 
thing about the child, left so young to the guardianship 
of strangers, that awakened sympathy; and she soon be- 
came not only an object of interest, but securely nestled 
in our warmest affections. Her name, too, was Mary — a 
name that never failed to produce a thrill of tender emo- 
tion. Her face was very fair, with soft, ruby lips, and 
cheeks warm with Summer flushes; but her blue eyes 
were sad looking — not a painful, but a timid, sadness, 
that lay like a veil over their brightness. After she be- 
gan to feel at home among us this vanished, and we 
found her a merry -hearted, gleesome child, with every 
motion full of dancing, rippling light. And yet she 
manifested an uncommon degree of pertinacity in what- 
ever she desired to have or do, her self-will being unusu- 
ally deep-rooted; but as I had determined from' the first 
to rear her as if she were my own child, and had adopted 
her from the purest motives of affection, I corrected, re- 
proved, and punished every fault. My disciplinary ad- 
monitions, under God's blessing, turned into the proper 
channel energies that formed a very lovely character. 

I realized then that the first great lesson to be taught 
children is submission and obedience, as introductory to 
every good in this world and the world to come. A 
stern sense of duty to my own children made me feel 
the weighty trust and responsibility in regard to others. 

If children be subjected to school discipline at too 
early an age, and forced to the irksome task of commit- 
ting to memory what a childish mind can not compre- 
hend, they may become thoroughly disgusted with all 
books, including even those fairy tales, adventures, and 
travels which are as much the proper food for little folks 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 375 

as the higher works of literature are for advanced schol- 
ars; and they may never be awakened to the necessity 
of fitting themselves for a life of usefulness and the en- 
joyment of a cultivated mind. If they sleep away their 
childhood over unsuitable books, they will sleep away their 
youth over the same when the proper time for studying 
them has come; and besides, having never had the op- 
portunity nor the encouragement to exhaust the glorious 
fields of choice juvenile romance, they have still the 
ungratified yearnings of children, and will be apt to 
plunge indiscriminately into the sea of popular fiction. 

Happily, there is now a growing conviction that every 
thing should come in its order: first, perception; then, 
fancy; next, memory, and, lastly, reason. Let children 
be children, not philosophers, and then they will make 
men, and not mere walking pedants. Those nursery 
tales and juvenile story-books, so congenial to the taste 
of pure childish fancy, ought not to be rejected entirely; 
for even the fleeting images produced by the jumbling of 
"Mother Goose's Melodies" will nourish the imagination, 
as well as quicken the perception. The childish eye may 
be taught to glance from heaven to earth, and from earth 
to heaven, as in fancy it follows "The old woman sweep- 
ing the sky," "The cow jumping over the moon," and 
"The man into the barberry-bush," before the mind is 
sufficiently matured to tax the memory much. 

It is the boast of our day that the child is familiar 
with the results of a life -time of philosophical investiga- 
tion. Every thing is simplified. Astronomy, Chemistry, 
Geology, Mental and Moral Science, are all taught in 
nice little primers. A conceit of knowledge is thus gen- 
erated, where, in fact, the outlines and elements are not 
even mastered. 



376 Julia A. Tevis. 

I have had girls of scarce sixteen Summers enter my 
school, having gone through the whole circle of the sci- 
ences, and exhausted every branch of literature, ready to 
receive the last polish of society, and yet they could not 
read intelligibly, write a legible hand, nor compose a 
page grammatically — some could not even spell the com- 
monest words in our language — did not know the four 
points of the compass, nor could they name the capitals 
of the States; were deficient in the elementary principles 
of mathematics, though they had gone through Algebra 
and Geometry. The excuse for entire deficiency in 
Arithmetic has generally been, "Oh, I have not had 
time; my brothers will teach me to cipher when I go 
home." And yet these same girls had, for years per- 
haps, been confined in school from six to eight hours a 
da) - ; at night carrying home a number of scientific works 
of which they scarce knew the author's name, — thus 
spending what should have been the merriest, happiest, 
and. most profitable part of their lives in attempting im- 
possibilities, and acquiring a distaste for learning, 

The minds of children should not be left unimproved. 
Much can and must be taught them before they enter 
the school-room. The judicious system pursued by the 
ancient Persians showed that they well understood the 
intimate connection between training and character, 
though they were heathens, and unacquainted with the 
injunctions of Divine Revelation upon that subject. 
They inculcated moral principle almost from the cradle, 
and enforced gymnastic exercises for the purpose of 
strengthening the body and preparing it as a suitable 
habitation for an enlarged and enlightened mind. They 
had no books, but the open volume of Nature was before 
them ; and practically they were, according to Xenophon, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 377 

models of virtue and morality, and physically superior to 
all the surrounding nations until ruined by the effeminate 
luxury of the Medians. 

The Athenians commenced a verbal course of teaching 
their own language as soon as reason dawned; and thus 
the whole population of Athens, from the meanest beggar 
to the most elevated statesman, pronounced and spoke 
their beautiful vernacular with such correctness that even 
a market-woman could distinguish a foreigner from a 
citizen of Athens by his shibboleth, or the peculiar pro- 
nunciation of his vowels. 

How often do we find parents sending their children 
to indifferent teachers, where they con over a few lessons 
in any fashion the)' may choose, provided they do not 
disturb the high dignitary who calls them together daily 
in a heterogeneous mass, to spend hour after hour ac- 
quiring idle habits and perverting their best faculties. 
This is done in some instances to save the trouble of 
parental instruction, and in others to save expense, which 
must be incurred in the end by keeping them longer at 
school. It is not an uncommon thing to find children 
thus acquiring ruinous intellectual habits, and so utterly 
gone astray in the simplest elementaiy principles, that it 
would take a life-time to undo these perversions; and yet 
the parents are astonished that their children do not 
come forth from a "finishing-school" models of elegance, 
erudition, and accomplishment. 

Again, because the education of females was formerly 
so totally neglected, many are anxious, under the new 
regime, to have them learn every thing without regard to 
the sphere they are to occupy in life. They would crowd 
into a few years as much learning as filled the brain of 
Socrates or Plato, and would have them so excellent in a 



378 Julia A. Tevis. 

thousand unnecessary things, as to lead to an entire loss 
of every thing useful and practical. 

Another evil, not less than those alluded to, is the 
frensy for external accomplishments. Often our best lit- 
erary institutions are rejected and the most fashionable 
schools chosen, where girls may be taught to carry off 
the prize for music or dancing, and to enter and leave a 
drawing-room gracefully, as if life were to consist of one 
universal holiday. And, oh, painful to tell, many Chris- 
tian parents think they can not do justice to their daugh- 
ters unless they give them an opportunity of acquiring that 
gracefulness of carriage from a dancing-master, which the 
pious mother or the religious teacher is not thought 
capable of imparting. Would any rational Christian 
suppose that dancing, or learning to shuffle the feet a la 
mode, is requisite for an introduction into heaven — the 
final destiny hoped for our daughters? 

To so great an extent was this infatuation carried a 
few years ago in one of our largest Western cities, that 
some, who held their heads as high as wealth and pride 
could raise them, laid aside all early prejudices and coun- 
tenanced that equality truly shocking to a sense of pro- 
priety, by having their daughters instructed in this so- 
called graceful and elegant accomplishment by a negro 
man — a lineal descendant of Ham, and once a slave — and 
this was done in a slave State. Query: Might not one 
polished enough to educate our sons and daughters for 
the ball-room be allowed an opportunity of sufficient 
mental culture to raise him to the standard of a rational 
Christian? 

I would not be supposed to be maintaining a war 
against all elegant, external accomplishments, for cer- 
tainly Christianity would be no gainer by rendering her 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 379 

disciples dull and unattractive. Religion, woman's dia- 
dem of beauty, does not forbid the acquisition of that 
which is truly agreeable and justly admirable, — awarding 
to these, however, their proper place, and esteeming the 
art of pleasing just in proportion to its value, — never 
suffering it to exclude the higher and more useful attain- 
ments. Accomplishments should be cultivated to amuse 
leisure, not to engross life. The injudicious practice of 
endeavoring to originate talents where they do not exist 
by nature can not be too much discouraged. Education 
only develops the latent powers of the mind and disci- 
plines its native forces; hence the truth of the assertion 
that where too much is attempted it has the unhappy 
tendency of weakening the powers of the mind by drawing 
off its strength into too great a variety of channels; and 
I well know that the crowding of a multiplicity of em- 
ployments into the few years allotted to girls for the 
acquirement of a good education rather creates a thirst 
for novelty than for knowledge; it is in reality promoting 
ignorance. Every body acknowledges the fact that the 
human mind is so constituted as to be enabled to attend 
to but one thing at a time successfully; and if the day 
be cut up into many separate portions it can not profit- 
ably be employed. It requires close and constant appli- 
cation for years to secure a sufficient amount of the 
current gold of literature, in addition to the regular 
foundation training, to prepare a young lady to be use- 
ful as well as ornamental in society. No railway has 
ever been constructed, no locomotive invented, by which 
the student can be saved the labor of thinking or acting 
for herself. The burden of application can not be taken 
from her shoulders and stowed away in the baggage-car. 
With singular inconsistency a girl's educational course 



380 Julia A. Tevis. 

is mapped out to be completed before the age of seven- 
teen or eighteen; and she leaves school at the very time 
when she is best prepared for the acquirement of solid 
learning, after which, instead of remaining at home three 
or four years to obtain a knowledge of those domes- 
tic employments which are calculated to keep up a sense 
of that mutual dependence which binds fond and lov- 
ing families together, she dashes into society indiscrimi- 
nately banishing all such employments as fit woman for 
the sphere she must occupy. What becomes of the 
time she intended to devote to a more general reading 
of history, biography, and travels? When is she to learn 
to sew and knit, to brew and bake? all of which are nec- 
essary to fit her for a good housekeeper, an excellent 
wife, and a mother competent to the task of instructing 
her children in early life. 

Boys, on the contrary, spend four, five, or six years at 
school, learning the sing-song inflections of Latin nouns 
and verbs, poring over Greek grammars and construing 
Virgil and Homer, after which comes a college course, 
and then years devoted to the study of a profession. 
This is all right, and nobody complains of their wasting 
time in academic halls; whatever else the world does 
or leaves undone, it seems a fixed fact that the control- 
ling influence of custom will have it just so ; and is this 
past remedy? 

And here again I may be charged with repeating what 
is in every body's mouth, undeniable things known to be 
as true as that two and two make four; but my reader 
must bear with me, recollecting how much the subject of 
education has been handled ; remembering, also, that 
though there is nothing new under the sun to be said 
upon this matter, yet there is a necessity that it should 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 381 

be repeated and held up to view, to impress the Avorld 
with the importance of brightening, as much as possible, 
the destiny of woman; and so thoroughly is woman's 
elevation interwoven with every fiber of my heart that I 
wish to leave a testimony in this book to be read by 
many when my voice shall no longer be heard in the 
school-room. 

We see and lament the defective course pursued in 
the present age with regard to the cultivation of the heart 
and the formation of the mind — especially, in our own 
country, where people are so busily striving to accumu- 
late wealth. True, much has been done, and more said, 
and much is still being done to remedy this evil. Doubt- 
less we shall eventually succeed, with God's blessing, in 
"bringing forth the top-stone with shouting." 

The progress of human knowledge is slow ; and, like 
the uprising sun, though we may watch it ever so in- 
tently, we can not see that it moves; yet, after the lapse 
of time, we know by comparison that it has progressed. 
Hence I would admonish my co-laborers in the noble 
work of teaching not to be discouraged. Having put 
our hands to the plow we must keep steadily onward, 
root out early prejudices, and prepare the ground for the 
reception of that good seed which shall strike downwards 
and spring up to eternal life. Lessons early imparted 
and daily interwoven by practice and habit become sec- 
ond nature, and thus perform the office of lawgiver in 
maturer years. 

I would advert to the long-contested question whether 
private instruction or boarding-schools ought to be pre- 
ferred. Many wealthy families provide governesses for 
their daughters, not only because they wish to keep them 

at home, but with the expectation that they will be more 

25 



382 Julia A. Tevis. 

thoroughly educated. I would not presume to dictate, 
though I may advise, and yet I hardly think it necessary 
to argue the advantages and disadvantages of private 
instruction, as few in our own country are able to edu- 
cate their children at home; nor do I think it desirable. 
I have it in my power to answer some of the objections 
made against large schools. It has been frequently said 
that children are exposed to the danger of having their 
morals corrupted in a boarding-school by improper asso- 
ciations. This is not the case in a well-regulated and 
properly disciplined school. In fact, much depends upon 
the natural disposition of children, or I should rather say 
upon their previous training and the care bestowed upon 
them before they leave the parental roof. Children fre- 
quently hear and see things at home of which they ought 
to be ignorant during their whole lives. Thus evil be- 
comes incorporated in their nature, and it is not uncom- 
mon that, from neglect of proper instruction at home, 
they become vicious before knowing what vice is. Often 
breathing nothing but luxury and pleasure, living in al- 
most total indolence, and daily acquiring bad habits, they 
become disorderly and irregular in their conduct, and 
carry evil influences along with them into school, instead 
of receiving them there. On the contrary, in a good 
school, under the strict supervision of competent teachers 
these selfish habits and irregularities may be greatly sub- 
dued and sometimes eradicated. 

The second objection offered by some is, that their 
advancement is not so rapid, and much more superficial 
than when a teacher has one or a few to instruct, and 
each one of these attended to individually. But this has 
been disproved by the experience of many. I have tried 
both plans, and am prepared to speak confidently on the 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 383 

subject. The worth of an institution of learning does 
not depend altogether upon the amount of information 
which patient teachers may, in a few years, pour into 
empty heads; but rather upon the proportions which the 
intellectual nature may acquire by the thoroughness of 
discipline to which it is subjected, and the bearing of 
such an education upon practical life. The chief object 
of a collegiate or academical course is discipline. 

Under private instruction, children are also without 
that emulation, which, when properly excited, is one of 
the greatest advantages of large schools. This emulation 
is wanting where the pupil is not stimulated by being 
classed, and has no one with whom she can compare her- 
self; she either becomes dull, languid, and dejected, rusts 
in a manner, or else falls into an opposite extreme, grows 
conceited, and values her attainments more highly than 
she ought. Besides the ardor, which a noble emulation 
well managed gives to young minds, such institutions 
afford ample room for the exercise of the greatest virtues, 
and lead to the most arduous undertakings in the path of 
learning. The pupils also form acquaintances and culti- 
vate friendships which often last as long as life itself. 
Some of these associations are of the best kind and have 
a happy influence on their future destiny. 

Another advantage is, that a child profits, not only by 
the instruction given to her, but by that imparted to 
others. She meets also with such models in her .compan- 
ions as she flatters herself with the hope of one day 
equaling, if not excelling. This gives a new impulse to 
the powers of mind and heart, and awakens some latent 
faculty which might otherwise have remained forever 
dormant. 

One unfortunate practice, which greatly prevails in 



384 Julia A. Tevis. 

our country, is that of frequently changing schools. It 
is utterly impossible for a young lady to be any thing 
like well educated under such circumstances. As well 
might we expect a rolling stone to gather moss, or a 
sieve to be filled with water. No matter if each success- 
ive school have equal advantages ; each has its own 
peculiar rules, regulations, and prescribed method, and 
every teacher who possesses any tact in communicating 
has her own course marked out; hence every change 
throAvs the pupil back, like the snail that climbed five 
feet up the A\ ? all in a day and fell back three at night. 

Last, but not least, I refer to the importance of teach- 
ing girls the religious use of time, — the duty of conse- 
crating to God every talent, every faculty, eA r ery posses- 
sion. They can not be too particularly guarded against 
idleness and a slovenly habit of wasting time. Let them 
be accustomed to pass from serious business to animated 
recreations, and be preserved from those long and torpid 
intervals betAveen both — that inanimate drowsiness which 
wears out so great a portion of life in both young and 
old. Activity is necessary to virtue, and indispensable 
to happiness. 

We are all aAA^are of the influence Avoman has exer- 
cised over the destinies of the Avorld, from Mother Eve 
doAvn to the present time ; and when Ave consider the 
variety of mischief which an ill -directed influence has 
been known to produce, Ave are led to reflect with the 
most sanguine hopes upon the beneficial effects to be 
expected from the same poAverful force when exerted in 
its true direction. It is a fact that the state of ciAdlized 
soicety depends much upon the prevailing sentiments antl 
habits of Avoman, and upon the nature and degree of esti- 
mation in which she is held. Many readily admit the 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 385 

power of female elegance and refinement upon the man- 
ners of men, yet do not always attend to the influence 
of female principles upon their characters. 

Reflections like these should suggest the necessity of 
neglecting nothing in the formation of morals, mind, or 
manners, that might tend to purify, strengthen, and adorn 
the characters of our daughters, — that not only they, but 
the world into which they are thrown, shall have reason 
to arise and call them blessed; and that in the great day 
of general account every Christian parent may be enabled 
through divine favor to say, with humble confidence, to 
our Maker and Redeemer, "Behold the daughters thou 
hast given me." Let us well remember that this is a dig- 
nified work in which we are engaged, a high and holy 
calling, — no less than that of "preserving the Ark of the 
Lord." Let mothers begin the great work upon the 
minds of their daughters in infancy, and root out with a 
strong hand vanity, selfishness, obstinacy, and every other 
hydra-headed monster, which may show itself in the secret 
and complicated workings of the human heart. 

Young persons should be taught to distrust their own 
judgment, and never murmur at expostulation. They 
should be accustomed to expect opposition, and learn to 
endure it; for this is a lesson which the world will not 
fail to furnish, and they will practice it the better for 
having learned it early. A submissive temper and for- 
bearing spirit should be particularly inculcated, which 
must be practiced, not on the low ground of its being 
decorous, feminine, pleasing, and calculated to attract 
human favor, but on the high principle of obedience to 
Christ, and on the practical ground of laboring after con- 
formity to Him who has said, "Learn of me, for I am 
meek and lowly in heart," and who has graciously prom- 



386 Julia A. Tevis. 

ised that the reward shall accompany the practice, by 
encouragingly adding, "And ye shall find rest for your 
souls." 

Of all the troubles of education, none are to be com- 
pared to that of bringing up a child that lacks sensibility. 
Lively and sensitive dispositions are capable of great 
wanderings. Passion and presumption lead them on, but 
they have great resources, and often return from error. 
Instruction is in them a hidden germ, which sometimes, 
when experience comes to the assistance of reason, and 
when passion is cool, blooms and bears fruit, especially 
if the teacher can render them attentive and awaken their 
curiosity; whereas you can have little influence upon one 
of those passive minds, one whose thoughts are never 
where they ought to be. Neither reproof nor correction 
can move them; they hear all, but feel nothing. 

Indolence renders a child negligent and disgusted with 
every thing she does; and the best education runs the 
risk of being thrown away if we do not hasten to check 
the evil at an early period. Many teachers suppose that 
every thing depends on education in forming the mind, 
and that nature has nothing to do with it; while the fact 
is, there are some dispositions which resemble an ungrate- 
ful soil for which culture does but little. These trouble- 
some characters should neither be crossed, neglected, nor 
ill-regulated in the commencement. Endeavor to discover 
if the temper you have to govern be wanting in curiosity, 
and if it be insensible to honest emulation. In this case 
it will be necessary to stir up all the resources of the soul 
to overcome the lethargy. Do not at first press a formal 
course of instruction. Take great care not to overcharge 
the memory; do not fatigue by restraining rules, but 
enforce instruction according to the occasion, by little and 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 387 

little, as it may be required, and according to the capac- 
ity of the mind to be instructed. By patience and per- 
severance that may be accomplished which might at first 
seem an impossibility, and the most ungrateful soil may 
be made to bring forth fruit. 

Some of my readers may feel disposed to complain 
of my repeated comments upon the necessity of the early 
training of girls. But can we hope to accomplish the end 
we have in view, to regulate the temporal and spiritual 
interests of the sex, without keeping this subject con- 
stantly before us and showing it up in the strongest 
light? What is the world but an assemblage of families? 
and who can regulate these families with a more exact 
care than women who possess the advantages of a suita- 
ble education? No one can describe the influence of a 
female who, to an excellent heart and a cultivated mind, 
joins a soul superior to the frowns of fortune or the 
temptations of the world, and who is calculated for all the 
duties she owes to God, her neighbor, and herself. Dili- 
gent and religious, she is the soul of her family. She is 
gentle, forbearing, and full of that sweet benevolence 
which, forgetful of itself, respects the feelings and inter- 
ests of others. 

"A woman, loveliest of the lovely kind, 
In body perfect, and complete in mind." 

If education be a school to fit us for life, and life a 
school to prepare us for eternity, too much care can not 
be taken to begin and continue upon that system most 
likely to effect the desired end. I have frequently re- 
verted to the subject of religious culture, but would, if 
possible, enforce it more strongly. Many well-meaning 
persons have deprecated the practice of instilling relig- 
ious knowledge into the minds of children, under the 



388 Julia A. Tevis. 

pretense that it is important to the cause of truth that 
the mind should be kept free from prepossessions, and 
that every one should be left to form such opinions on 
religious subjects as may seem best to his own reason in 
maturer years; but this is to deny the truth of Chris- 
tianity, if not effectually to destroy it under the plausible 
excuse of free agency. 

We should be careful, it is true, that the religion we 
teach should be the religion of the Bible, and not the 
inventions of human error and superstition ; and that 
what we attempt to infuse into others should be the 
result of close scrutiny, and not the offerings of credulity 
and bigotry. There are certain leading and fundamental 
truths, certain sentiments on the side of Christianity as 
well as of virtue and benevolence, in favor of which every 
child ought to be prepossessed. We need not fear that 
the young mind will have too much light on the subject 
of what is right and true ; and I might add that to keep 
the mind void of all prepossessions on any or every sub- 
ject is a vain and impracticable attempt, the very sug- 
gestion of which argues ignorance of human nature. We 
must sow good seed in the heart, or the devil will sow 
tares, and that so abundantly as to render the soil difficult 
of cultivation for good. Our Savior has said, "Suffer little 
children to come unto me;" thus we should begin, con- 
tinue, and end with Christianity. Shall so much time be 
spent in the acquisition of physical and intellectual advan- 
tages, and none, comparatively speaking, for eternity? Do 
young ladies, become musicians, linguists, and mathema- 
ticians by early study, and shall they become Christians 
by accident? Oh, fatal mistake! Shall all these accom- 
plishments, which perish in the using, be so assiduously, 
so systematically taught, and shall the knowledge which 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 389 

is to make them wise unto salvation be picked up at 
random? Shall that knowledge, which parents are re- 
quired in the Scriptures to teach their children diligently, 
commanded to talk of when they sit in their houses and 
when they walk by the way, when they lie down and 
when they rise up, be omitted, deferred, or slightly 
taught, or superseded by things of comparatively little 
value? Away with such a soul-destroying doctrine from 
the earth! No; let us have the Bible for our text-book 
on all occasions; for if that be the purest eloquence which 
most persuades, and which comes home to the heart with 
the fullest evidence and the most irresistible force, then 
no eloquence is so powerful as that of the Bible. 

Intelligent Christian teachers will be instructed by the 
Bible itself how to communicate its truths with life and 
spirit; while they are musing the fire will burn, — that 
fire that will preserve them from an insipid, dull, or 
freezing mode of instruction. It has been falsely asserted 
that the Bible is too intricate to be presented in its own 
native form, that it puzzles and bewilders the youthful 
understanding. In all needful and indispensable points 
of knowledge the Bible is as clear as the noonday sun. 
The darkness of Scripture is but a partial darkness, like 
that of Egypt benighting only the enemies of God, while 
his children are left in the clear daylight. What then ? 
banish the Bible from our schools? God in mercy forbid! 
Rather let it be the vade mccam of every school-girl. It 
is the only pure fountain of morality and true religion, 
and should be our principal reference -book throughout 
the journey of life. Without this chart and compass, the 
ignis fatnus of worldly learning would lead to inevitable 
shipwreck. 

Woman was first in the transgression, and how lovely 



39° Julia A. Tevis. 

and acceptable in the sight of God that she should be the 
first to return to him. The most distinguished women 
the world has ever known have been eminent for their 
piety. It is piety that brightens every charm, and gives 
grace and glory to the unfading coronet that crowns the 
intellectual brow. 'T is true we read of some flashing 
meteors among heathen women, and in later ages of some 
who rejected the Bible as their counsel; but they soon 
disappeared amid the darkness of their own vices, and 
their names serve only to blot the pages of history. Our 
hearts sicken to know that such ever existed. In vain 
may we expect to find good fruits amid the impure exha- 
lations of an unhealthy soil, or suppose that virtue may 
be produced from a ground that has been exhausted by 
repeated crops of vice. Some good and pious people, 
most unfortunately for their children, consider them as 
possessing a kind of hereditary claim to perfection, and 
suppose the necessity of culture to be superseded by the 
parent plant. This is a fatal mistake. Children inherit 
nothing so much as a propensity to sin, — all else must be 
taught them. The mines of Golconda were of little worth 
to the owner without being wrought. 

Education — female education! Who will not say, 
God speed this glorious cause ? Yea, with heart and 
hand, let us unite in promoting its advancement. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 391 



Chapter XXXIII. 

As I write, the vision of a Lancastrian school which I 
attended long, long ago in Georgetown, District of 
Columbia, rises up before me — one of the most pleasant 
reminiscences of my life. This excellent system of mu- 
tual instruction was introduced into England by the good 
old Quaker, Joseph Lancaster, in 1803, and thence into 
the United States about the year 18 14. It was a vast 
improvement upon the old style of forcing wayward 
children into a proper appreciation of school privileges. 
I have often wondered why these institutions did not 
become more popular, and take deeper root in our 
country, where a rapid and general diffusion of knowl- 
edge is so desirable. Our common-school system is, 
doubtless, a modification of the original plan, and may 
be an improvement when properly conducted, but my 
own experience of the rapid progress made in the elemen- 
tary branches, especially in reading, writing, and arith- 
metic, the arts by which the sciences are to be acquired, 
has left a vivid impression on my mind. The general 
good order, strict discipline, and beautiful arrangement 
of that school, the judicious appointment of well-qualified 
teachers, who selected efficient and faithful monitors, 
brought forth results fully demonstrating the practical 
value and thoroughness of the instruction given. 

The Female Department was a spacious room with 
lateral aisles, along which were arranged in regular suc- 
cession a number of semicircular recitation forms. Long 



392 Julia A. Tevis. 

rows of desks occupied the center of the room. The 
classes were seated at these in regular gradation, the 
younger ones being nearest the teacher's desk, which was 
upon a raised platform at one end of the room, very much 
resembling the pulpits of our modern churches. Here our 
Minerva stood armed with her magic wand, swaying the 
multitude before her. From six to eight classes, besides 
the one taught by the principal, were reciting at the 
same time to monitors with but little noise and no con- 
fusion. These in regular routine came once during the 
day under the examination of the principal. The words, 
"attention! look!" and "listen!" were never heard ex- 
cept through the silver tones of her little bell. During the 
time of my sojourn in this school a lovely Quakeress pre- 
sided — a woman of commanding presence, and a genuine, 
conscientious teacher of great experience. She was an 
ornament to her sex, and a model worthy to be known 
and studied. Her very appearance was so prepossessing 
that you loved her almost as so.on as you looked upon her. 
She wore the full Quaker costume, with all its minutest 
proprieties — her beautiful brown hair closely braided on 
her calm forehead, that snowy Friends' cap, which never 
loses its form even under a close bonnet, a pure white 
muslin handkerchief crossed over her bosom in the 
exactest folds; a dove-colored silk shawl, just large 
enough to reach to her elbows, pinned on each- side. 
She wore no ornaments of any kind, her handkerchief 
being confined at the throat by the daintiest of common 
pins; no little point was overlooked or omitted upon 
which the propriety of the whole depended; no something 
was added, though a mere nothing in itself or in the eyes 
of others, that might mar the whole. 

Miss Margaret Judge had that decided expression of 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 393 

countenance that indicated a clear head, strong good 
sense and great firmness of character. A quiet, self-pos- 
sessed demeanor, resulting from integrity of purpose 
that goes at once to the point without circumlocution, 
amounted almost to severity, was yet tempered by the 
tenderest and truest of female hearts. I never heard her 
laugh but her sweet face smiled all over with the illumi- 
nation of a sanctified soul, and often brightened into an 
intensity that bespoke an intellect highly cultivated and 
beautifully refined. We loved her with all the reverence 
of profound respect, mingled with the devotion of young 
enthusiastic hearts. I have seen more than three hun- 
dred children decorous and quiet under the influence of 
her mild yet firm government. So habitual was her 
precision of mind and action, that whatever she did was 
done by rule. Her motto was, "Whatever is worth 
doing at all is worth doing well." Though on the verge 
of forty, she was handsome, with a face as smooth as 
that of a child, resulting from the quiet tenor of a life 
spent in the cultivation of the affections and free from the 
touch of its anxieties. Hers was a sympathetic char- 
acter, full of energy and glowing with enthusiasm for the 
beautiful, the true, and the good ; eminently adapted to 
the position she occupied in this admirable school, which 
aspired to no more than could be well done from the 
ABC scholar, who formed letters in the clear white 
sand, until perfectly familiar with these foundation prin- 
ciples, onward through the most rigid course of intel- 
lectual training. 

The Lancastrian schools occupied neutral ground, and 
struck bravely for the cardinal principles of a liberal 
education — exact scholarship in the elementary branches. 
The rapidity with which the children learned to write 



394 Julia A. Tevis. 

and the elegant penmanship of the higher classes were 
remarkable. I learned to write there so beautifully that 
a silver pen and pencil, the first I ever saw, was awarded 
me as a premium, and I have been a ready writer 
ever since. 

No 'ologies were forced upon us in the transition 
state of the growing mind ; none of that hot-house system 
so greatly to be deprecated, and so fatal to the acquire- 
ment of real knowledge. The plain old Quaker, Joseph 
Lancaster, knew that there must be time for mental as 
well as physical development. Minds were suffered to 
expand into their full stature and native proportions. 
Good and faithful teachers will not try to givzv minds, 
but let them grow as rapidly as nature will permit. The 
citizens of Georgetown liberally patronized this school — 
even the most aristocratic — feeling that not only the 
improvement of their own children, but the general 
interests of the whole community were involved in it; 
they did not reject it, though a free school; and thought 
it not derogatory to enroll their boys and girls among its 
numbers. We had monthly examinations, at which time 
the large folding-doors were thrown open, giving a full 
view of the Male Department, over which presided a 
thoroughly well-bred Englishman of dignified manners 
and profound erudition. Mr. Old was a man who left 
his impress upon the hearts and minds of his pupils. 

What a privilege we girls considered it to visit his 
school-room on Saturdays, and listen to his description 
of England's rural scenery, dotted with ancient cathe- 
drals and ruined castles, whose intricate passages went 
rambling about in such strange fashion, and from whose 
turrets crept many a thrilling story of the Middle Ages. 
We helped to stitch his pamphlet copy-books, ruled the 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 395 

lines and dusted his library; and then came the reward of 
our industry from his well-stored memory. I remember 
how I used to fancy him a disguised nobleman, and that 
by and by would come the finale of my own romance, 
by his marrying Miss Judge, whom really he seldom saw 
and never conversed with except on school matters. 

One of the sweetest personifications of girlhood I 
ever knew was a sister of Miss Judge, a little maiden 
just entering her fourteenth year, and to whom I was 
very much attached. Though completely hedged in by 
that peculiarity of dress belonging to the sect of her 
fathers, and not permitted to vary her garb with every 
phase of fashion, she had a certain modified style about 
her, chastened always by parental authority, that ren- 
dered her appearance very pleasing. Thus Susanna, in 
her light dove-colored dress and a bonnet as plain as her 
grandmother's in fashion and color, looked really elegant 
and attractive. The "dew of youth" was upon her 
beautiful face, and her dark hair fell in a mass of glossy 
curls almost to her waist when not confined by cap or 
bonnet. No wonder that an occasional glance in her 
tiny hand-mirror gave rise to the coquettish desire to be 
seen and admired. No wonder that she sometimes 
made a display when from under her mother's eye, 
which raised the admonishing finger of "Sister Mar- 
garet." "Take care, Susanna, thee must not cherish 
vain thoughts! bind up thy hair, and keep on thy cap; 
cast away that pride of heart so unbecoming in a young 
maiden!" And, again, "Susanna, I must inform father 
if thee will display thy curls, and they will be cut off." 

It is a common thing to deride school-girl friendships, 
and to compare them to the morning dew; but there are 
some that outlive time and circumstances and, like the 



396 Julia A. Tevis. 

last roses of Summer, shed a fragrance over life's drear- 
iest hours. There was a chord in Susanna's heart which 
vibrated in unison with my own; we sat together on the 
same form, read together from the same interesting book 
at play-time; walked arm in arm from school that we 
might linger over an interesting conversation. Scott's 
novels were just then being rapidly issued from the press 
and were exciting an intense interest in the reading 
world. We were both fond of reading, and were often 
hid away between school-hours, and so deeply absorbed 
in one of these historical novels that we caught many 
a reprimand for being tardy. 

Good and religious persons condemned Scott's novels 
too severely ; they certainly have the merit of producing 
a purer taste among romance readers, and yet danger 
does lurk among the folded leaves of the best written 
novels — cultivating, as they do, a taste for fiction rather 
than fact. Our people read, and read a great deal, and 
it is a pity that the press should teem with multiplied 
thousands of trashy books; yet perhaps no other country 
can present a population of more general intelligence or 
one better informed. Knowledge is distributed over 
every community with the undistinguishing profusion of 
the breath of heaven. 

"Her handmaid Art now all our wilds explores, 
Traces our waves and cultures all our shores." 

The sources of this mental cultivation may be found 
in the munificent public provision for schools, and in the 
cheapness and multiplication of useful books ; yet we 
have comparatively few men of eminent learning and pro- 
found erudition; it takes time, wealth, and leisure to 
produce such. 

Sometime during the year 1830, a little negro girl 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 397 

was introduced into our family, and became an interesting 
study to those who watched the development of her 
mental faculties. She was dwarfish and deformed, but 
showed a brilliancy of intellect worth remembering, an 
illustration of the truth that the colored race is capable 
of improvement. The girl was not more than eight or 
nine years old, and just high enough to reach the dining 
table conveniently. Her right shoulder protruded consid- 
erably, and as she grew older continued to enlarge more 
rapidly than any other part of her body. Her head was 
large but perfectly symmetrical and covered with an 
abundant quantity of real wool, eyes clear and full of 
vivacity, nostrils large and sensitive, lips thick; but she 
articulated more distinctly than white children of her age 
generally. Of unmixed African descent, she was a real 
negro, though born in the United States, and showed 
their usual love of finery by decorating her fingers with 
rings and making as great ?. display of colors in her dress 
as a South Sea Islander. This taste, however, vanished 
by degrees as her mind was improved, and her opportu- 
nities for observation developed a feminine tact for con- 
gruity and appropriateness. 

Engaged in a round of occupations that admitted of 
little leisure, I scarcely noticed the rapidity with which 
our little ebony dwarf learned any and every thing. Her 
spelling, at first, was entirely phonetic, yet she soon 
learned to read understandingly, and seemed to drink in 
knowledge through every surrounding medium. Listen- 
ing and learning whilst others taught, she acquired the 
habit of expressing herself in good language and soon 
learned to write neatly and intelligibly. 

After the lapse of a year or two, music was added to 

her other accomplishments. She played many sweet and 

26 



398 Julia A. Tevis. 

touching pieces on the piano, the keys of which she could 
just conveniently manage when standing, and over which 
she had the most perfect control, her long, flexible 
fingers looking as if made for the purpose. Her voice, 
like that of all the best singers of her race, was plaintive, 
low, and sweet. 

She played altogether by ear, her musical taste being 
too exquisite and natural to be subjected to the appren- 
ticeship of the instruction book. The ordinary drilling 
was so entirely distasteful to her that the girls who from 
time to time tried to teach her to read music gave it up 
in despair. 

She never seemed. to make a false note, but struck at 
once the right chord of the tune she had heard, as if 
by intuition. The sound of musical instruments in full 
orchestra made her frantic with joy. After ascertaining 
this fact, I always gave her an opportunity of attending 
concerts or musical entertainments of any kind. She 
brought back every piece at the ends of her fingers. 
Her soul, like a harp, possessed capabilities for plaintive, 
joyous, or solemn music; but when her fingers swept the 
chords of the piano, or touched the guitar, she usually 
brought forth those wild and plaintive strains so conge- 
nial to her race. 

Ritta's memory was remarkable for capacity and for 
tenacity as well. The transparency with which her earli- 
est recollections lay mirrored in her mind rendered it a 
shifting panorama of amusing pictures. Her woven mys- 
teries reminded one of Scheherizade, her stories were 
more than a "thousand and one," yet were her wonder- 
ing and admiring auditors never wearied by tedious- 
ness nor palled by monotony. She possessed in an 
eminent degree that variety which is the spice of life. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 399 

Her conversation, even before she had reached her 
teens, differed so much from that of her fellow servants 
and the colored people generally, that they found fault 
with her as being not one of them, though she tried her 
best not to excite their jealousy ; and often after she had 
grown older and more thoughtful she vainly endeavored 
to imitate their manner of talking. 

She became decidedly religious, a Methodist after the 
strictest sect, though she never gave up her love of fic- 
tion, and her disposition to devour, stealthily, marvelous 
tales and romances. Yet as her judgment matured, she 
grew more reticent, and combined with her general read- 
ing history and religious biography. 

At the age of thirty we desired to send her to 
Liberia, feeling assured that she would make a competent 
teacher, and be very useful in that colony. She posi- 
tively refused to go. "I do not know," said she "how 
long I shall be able to take care of myself, and I am not 
willing to become a stranger in a strange land." She 
sometimes thought she would like to be free, but refused 
to accept her freedom upon the condition of leaving us. 

Her last illness, though lingering and painful, was 
marked by patient resignation, and by that pure intelli- 
gent faith expressed in the words of St. Paul, which 
brings "peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, 
rejoicing in hope of the glory of God." 

The case recorded is by no means an exceptional one. 
I have known many others, though not so remarkable, 
that might be adduced to prove the fallacy of the asser- 
tion often made, even by intelligent people, that the 
negro race has no capacity for improvement. 



4oo Julia A. Tevis. 



Chapter XXXIV. 

Scattered all along the years intervening between 
1829 and 1836 arise some of the sunniest recollec- 
tions, as well as some of the saddest that mark the 
changeful pilgrimage of my teacher-life. Pleasant, in- 
deed, it is to review those busy days crowded with rem- 
iniscences; some agreeable, some provoking at the time, 
but mellowed by the lapse of years, are now a source of 
amusement. 

My time-worn and faded school register presents many 
cherished names. One group I particularly remember as a 
happy illustration of what school life ought to be. They 
had joys and pleasures with which the world meddled 
not;' though no book- worms, they studied well, read 
much, laughed heartily, and never kept their thoughts 
baled up until they became stale. What they knew they 
Avere willing to impart to others, and, like the little busy 
bee, improved each shining hour for present pleasure as 
well as for future usefulness. 

Jane C, Amanda M'A., Zerilda S., Anna M., Julia B., 
and my two little pets, if I ever had any, Polly Monroe 
and Sarah Dubberly, both of whom entered when quite 
young, and continued with me until their school educa- 
tion was completed. Among them also conspicuously 
appeared my sister, Arabella, as the bond and main- 
spring. There were many others, whom time would fail 
me to mention, mingling in the bright galaxy which 
spanned the intervening arch, but these were particularly 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 401 

associated together and remained longer at school than 
was then customary. The dear and cherished picture of 
this little circle often rises unbidden before my eyes, and 
I always feel reluctant to part with it. They emulated 
each other in works of usefulness, and aimed at excel- 
lence in the accomplishment of whatever they undertook. 
Here arises the question, What is genius according to 
the common acceptation of the term? Nothing but 
labor and diligence. The principle of industry, properly 
inculcated, will radiate in all directions, and illuminate 
difficulties by that light which duty alone can shed. 

These mind-expanding girls deemed the attainment -of 
the objects they had in view a sufficient reward for their 
application. Often when the recitations of the day were 
over, they might be seen by twos, threes, or fours, in 
some quiet spot, talking or comparing notes upon their 
daily acquisitions. With spirits radiant as the Summer 
sky, they sought no greater happiness than was found in 
each other's society; and I venture to affirm that the 
subjects of their conversation never turned into the ordi- 
nary channels, "What shall I eat, what shall I drink, and 
wherewithal shall I be clothed," and any of them would 
have been as likely to make the contour of her face, or 
the color of her eyes an excuse for not attending Church, 
as the cut of her garments, or the shape of her bonnet. 
Nor did they give their mutual friendship the weakening 
expression of silly phrases, but the strengthening one of 
action. Their friendship was not characterized by that 
violent intimacy sometimes existing in schools. 

How beautiful is that moderate and everlasting love 
which gives warmth without casting forth sparks, flames 
straight up without crackling, and is neither subject to 
conflagrations nor eruptions! 



402 Julia A. Tevis. 

The depth and constancy of pure disinterested friend- 
ship is characterized by a noble emulation in the path 
of duty. No drop of envy mingles with the sparkling 
bubbles sipped from the cup of knowledge; on the con- 
trary, there is a manifest disposition to lend a helping 
hand to others traveling the same rugged pathway. 
Such were these girls, they assisted the younger ones, 
and scattered flowers in the way of the inexperienced, 
and practiced the precept, "Whatsoever we possess, be- 
comes doubly valuable when we are so happy as to share 
it with another." 

Amanda's practicability and mathematical cleverness, 
her dignified, quiet, kind, and cheerful manners, com- 
bined with a proper thoughtfulness about every thing, 
gave her a position of considerable importance in school. 

The quaint humor of Zerilda, the sweetness of Jane's 
poetical effusions, whose inspirations were often checked 
by her faithful, matter-of-fact, but intelligent and truthful 
friend, Arabella, strengthened the bond which united 
these three. Arabella was an indefatigable student, and 
by her large acquaintance with books possessed a fund 
of ready knowledge which rendered her an entertaining 
companion. 

Zerilda read history con amore, and would select by 
preference "Rollin," or "Josephus; but she loved occa- 
sionally to refresh herself from the "Castalian spring." 
Upon one occasion I saw her at a distance, apparently 
quite absorbed in a large book open before her. 

"What are you doing, Zerilda?" 

"Reading a little Moore in Josephus, Madam," she 
smilingly replied, exhibiting a minute copy of Moore's 
poems, with which for a while she had shut out the dry 
details of Josephus. 



Sixty Years in a School- room. 403 

The laughter -loving and agreeable Julia was a ready 
friend, and her very presence had a kindly influence on 
her companions; like a sunbeam, she was clear and 
bright. Her presence "bade dull care begone;" grief 
and melancholy fled before her, and she stirred up the 
saddest spirits into a pleasing motion. 

After leaving school their paths widely diverged, — 
some blessed the home circle, others shone in society or 
became faithful teachers of the young; but whenever a 
happy circumstance has thrown them together their con- 
versation has been sure to turn upon the gay and tender 
recollections of Science Hill. 

So much of the sunshine of this period and so many 
pleasant little incidents were connected with the two little 
girls, Polly Monroe and Sarah Dubberly, that I can not 
pass them without further notice. They entered school 
about the same time, and were for years classmates and 
intimate friends, so that the history of the school life 
of one is interwoven with that of the other. Sarah was 
the "Benjamin" of her mother's heart, one of the hap- 
piest little creatures in the world, and the light and life 
of the household. Her little head would probably have 
been quite turned by the flattering attentions she received 
had she not been blessed with a judicious mother. The 
world, with a singular inconsistency, always apologizes 
for an only child, and especially an only daughter, when 
spoiled by hurtful indulgences ; as if it were not so much 
the more necessary to endow this center of affection, and 
it may be the sole prop of devoted parents, with every 
virtue, and all the excellencies that might have been di- 
vided among a numerous family. Though enshrined in 
the widowed mother's heart as the darling of her old age, 
Sarah was not the object of idolatrous affection. Mrs. 



404 Julia A. Tevis. 

Dubberly was a practical woman, of large experience and 
good sense. She knew that mere external advantages 
could not supply the want of loveliness of character. 
She nurtured her daughter in this belief, and secured 
prompt obedience to her wishes and instructions. Thus, 
when Sarah was old enough to have her school duties 
interfered with by little visitings and holidays, she was 
sent to a boarding-school. The little girl was full of love 
and sunshine, cheerful and obliging, but quick, impulsive, 
and sometimes out of humor, though "anger never rested 
in her bosom;" and when in fault she was so easily sub- 
dued, so ready to apologize, that it was impossible to 
continue displeased with her. 

Her own mother visited her occasionally during term 
time; but I do not remember a single instance of her 
having been kept at home, during the seven years she 
was at school, to the detriment of her regular school 
duties. 

In comparing the past with the present I can not but 
remember how perfectly satisfied the girls of twenty and 
thirty years ago were, though accustomed to every indul- 
gence, with the systematic regularity of our home school, 
and with their plain but wholesome food. How much 
less they seemed to covet sweetmeats and sugar-plums! 
True, then, as now. there were found unthinking mothers 
who kept their children gorged with confectionery, thus 
rendering them gourmands, and stupefying the intellect. 

The paths of Polly Monroe and Sarah Dubberly ran 
parallel for many years. Polly was the third daughter 
of Judge Monroe, of Frankfort. Two sisters had pre- 
ceded her at school. Thus she was no stranger when she 
came to us! and though but nine years of age she walked 
as naturally into the school -room as if she knew her 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 405 

place by intuition, and from that moment she continued 
to be every body's pleasure, and in nobody's way. 

Years have rolled by since I first became acquainted 
with Judge Monroe's family, bound to them by the 
strongest ties of affection — my life-long friends and pa- 
trons. I must linger awhile over the pleasing scenes so 
intimately connected with them. Widely known as one 
of the most delightful families to visit, none ever min- 
gled socially for intimately in the family without cherish- 
ing a lively and pleasant recollection of all its members. 

Mrs. Monroe was a daughter of Governor Adair, and 
shared largely in the well-known tact and ability of that 
family to render themselves useful and agreeable. I found 
in her a kindred spirit, and we visited each other upon 
terms of the closest intimacy. All of Governor Adair's 
daughters were charming women — some of them remark- 
able for their intellectual attainments, and gifted with fine 
conversational powers. A cle,ar, strong current of good 
sense, and a sparkling effervescence, were the distinguish- 
ing characteristics of these agreeable women. 

From Mrs.. Adair and Mrs. Monroe I learned some 
interesting facts connected with the life of Rev. Valentine 
Cook — a pioneer Methodist preacher who went forth, 
like Abraham, at the call of God, "not knowing whither 
he went," — one of that noble army of self-sacrificing men 
who could sing, in spirit and in truth, 

"No foot of land do I possess, 
No cottage in this wilderness." 

He literally obeyed the Savior's command, setting 
forth on his itinerancy without money or scrip, yet never 
lacking. The Lord provided, and he was a welcome 
guest in any house that he had once visited as a messen- 
ger from heaven. He was eminently fitted for the work 



406 Julia A. Tevis. 

of an itinerant in those days, — possessing an iron frame 
which could endure any amount of fatigue, a strength 
and freshness of mind which nothing seemed to impair, 
and entire devotion to his calling. He preached and 
prayed as if a live coal from the altar had just touched his 
lips; and though he carried all the energies of his soul 
and of his gigantic mind into the pulpit he never de- 
claimed; and yet there was the earnestness of inspiration 
in his tender, manly face, and a self-forgetting enthusiasm 
that carried conviction to the hearts of his hearers. He 
is described as having distinctly marked and well-formed 
features, forehead broad and full, strong gray eyes, ex- 
pressive of firmness of character, and a very large mouth, 
which when open displayed a full set of fine teeth. Thus 
his very appearance introduced him favorably to strangers. 

His connection with Governor Adair's family, which 
ripened into the strongest friendship, arose from the cir- 
cumstance of his having been employed as a teacher for 
his daughters; and such were the benefits reaped by 
them from Mr. Cook's intellectual and religious training 
that much of their superiority was attributable to these 
advantages, and he was ever spoken of with love and 
gratitude by the whole family. 

An anecdote related to me by Mrs. Monroe shows 
how deeply abstracted he was when rapt in religious 
contemplation. A revival was going on at Harrodsburg, 
a few miles from the Governor's residence, and crowds 
were in attendance from all the surrounding country. It 
was beautiful Summer weather, and the moon was at her 
full. Mrs. Adair said, one morning: 

"Bring some of your friends home with you to- 
night, Mr. Cook, and give them a quiet rest. We shall 
close the front part of the house, but leave the back 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 407 

door open, so that you can enter without disturb- 
ing us." 

It was after midnight when the meeting closed. Mr. 
Cook and two of his friends walked out from town to 
the residence of Governor Adair. The moon was gliding 
on her way through masses of fleecy clouds. He left 
his friends on the front porch, whilst he went around with 
a view of entering through the back door to admit them. 
The friends waited and waited. More than half an hour 
elapsed, when the ladies above heard the deep rich tones 
of his clear voice ringing out amid the surrounding 
silence, — 

"In a chariot of fire, my soul mounted higher, 
And the moon, it was under my feet." 

Presently the awakened ducks and the geese and the 
whole poultry-yard joined in full chorus. A hand lightly 
touched his shoulder, and a gentle voice said : 

"Why, Mr. Cook, have you forgotten the gentlemen 
you left in the porch?" 

"True, true," he exclaimed, recollecting himself, and, 
walking hastily into the house with Mrs. Adair, he found 
the gentlemen already admitted and enjoying a laugh at 
his expense. 

Mr. Cook's faith, like that of Moses, seemed all- 
prevailing; the sanctified light of the Christian religion 
w 7 hich shone into his soul cleared up the dark enigmas 
of life. His daughter was once sick many miles distant 
from her home. A courier was dispatched for the 
father, "Come quickly, your daughter is extremely ill." 
He started within an hour on horseback, accompanied 
by his wife — the way was long and tedious. A painful 
silence was observed for many miles, when Mr. C. said, 
"Wife, let us get down and pray." The horses were 



408 Julia A. Tevis. 

fastened by the wayside while they went a little way off, 
and, kneeling down, prayed fervently with many groans 
and tears. As they arose to pursue their journey, he 
said, "Our daughter will not die, but live — the Lord 
has told me so." They went on their way, and having 
reached the end of their journey the mother asked, as she 
entered the house, "How is Mary?" "She is improv- 
ing." And it came to pass that she was soon able to 
return home with her parents. God made him a useful 
and an honorable man. He fed thousands of souls with 
the bread of life, and, like his Divine Master, preached 
in the wilderness and solitary places of the earth. 

Among all the school-girl friendships I remember 
none more striking than that of Mary Ann Dickinson 
and Anna Monroe. Mary Ann was a quiet, thoughtful 
girl, prepossessing in appearance, with a fair face and a 
fine forehead. Sympathetic and cheerful, but never bois- 
terous, — sometimes, indeed, her equanimity of temper 
annoyed me — she enjoyed success and endured defeat 
with the same composure. Anna was quite the reverse. 
Each was perfectly independent in character and senti- 
ment, yet strongly attracted to the other upon first 
acquaintance. Their fresh, pure, and unsophisticated 
souls were soon knit together like those of Jonathan and 
David. Anna's ardent nature, her vivacity, and some- 
times too great volubility, led her into difficulties, from 
which Mary Ann was ever ready to assist in extricating 
her. If Anna leaped at the stars and fastened in the 
mud, her friend was prepared to help her out. Theirs 
was the true, steadfast love of warm hearts, continued 
through the years of girlhood onward to maturer life. 

"Two bright spirits blended 
Like sister flowers of one sweet shade." 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 409 

We were early risers in those days, and the girls were 
required to be up as early on Saturday and Sunday morn- 
ings as on other days of the week. One unfortunate 
Saturday morning the two friends were missed from their 
accustomed seats at morning prayers. After breakfast 
they were called upon to give an account of themselves, 
properly rebuked, and warned as to the future. As 
they left the room one was overheard to say, "I expected 
Mrs. Tevis to punish me; I wish she had, for I was pre- 
pared to bear any thing rather than that sad and reproach- 
ful look with which she admonished us." "Yes," was 
the reply, "and I can never be so lazy again." The 
Sunday morning following was very cold; a cheerful, 
good fire had been burning all night in my room for the 
sake of a little nursling in the cradle. The clock in the 
corner of the room striking four awakened me from a 
sound sleep, and, opening my eyes, I saw two figures, 
one on each side of the fire-place, reading silently from a 
large volume. I rubbed my eyes, thinking I must be 
still asleep. Not a breath of noise was afloat, and they 
sat as immovable as statues until I exclaimed, "Who are 
you, and what do you want?" "It is Mary Ann and 
Anna. We are reading our Bibles and trying to make 
up for yesterday — won't you forgive it? and pray do 
not look sorry at us any more." The fault was fully 
atoned for. 

Among the crowds of young ladies that have been 
taught music in this institution, I have known but few 
that kept it up after leaving school, and especially after 
marriage. Mary Ann Dickinson was one of the few; 
music continued with her a passion. I have known her 
to sit down and play on the piano with as much interest 
after she was the mother of many children as when a 



41 o Julia A. Tevis. 

blooming school-girl; and even up to the present time, 
though a grandmother, her music is not neglected, and 
amid the roar of the bounding billows of the Pacific, in 
Oregon, where many years ago her home was fixed, 
almost beyond the boundaries of civilization, the notes 
of her piano are heard. It was the first piece of fur- 
niture unpacked and assigned its place — even before the 
cooking-stove. How I long for the time to arrive when 
music shall form an essential part of every American 
household! Many lackadaisical, sentimental girls waste 
hours in trying to express their delicate thoughts in 
poetic numbers, and yet are not willing to cultivate a 
taste for music either vocal or instrumental. Music is 
heart-painting; its task is to attune the mind, to arouse 
the feelings, and to express the play of the sensibilities. 
I must confess, however, to an utter want of appreciation 
of the modern and fashionable taste displayed in the 
execution of long and difficult compositions. I feel like 
a young friend of mine who asked his cousin to favor 
him with some music. He endured a long and, perhaps, 
a finely executed piece, then imupulsively exclaimed, 
"Cousin Mary, do you inflict that upon every body who 
asks you to play?" That only is music that touches the 
heart and fills the eye with tears. The wealth of melody 
and harmony contained in those old Scotch airs and other 
sweet, touching ballads of the same character, is won- 
derful. They are ever fresh, ever pleasing for those who 
have a true soul for music. It is greatly to be regretted 
that so few of our best performers give them a proper 
appreciation. Girls may scream Italian songs, and render 
an uninitiated ear frantic with elaborate instrumental 
pieces; but, when asked for one of Burns's sweet ballads, 
unless they happen to be the fashion of the day, will 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 411 

reply, "I don't sing them, they don't suit my voice, 
and they are absolutely out of date." Can music that 
thrills the soul ever become stale ? Should such ever be 
out of fashion? No, not until feeling and sentiment are 
out of fashion, and we become mere moving, breathing 
automatons; yet so seldom do we hear those simple 
airs, replete with melody, that 'tis really refreshing to 
find a performer whose appreciation of the beautiful is in 
harmony with the charming simplicity of nature, rather 
than the unnatural flights and rich confusion termed 
music in the fashionable world. 



4i2 Julia A. Tevis. 



Chapter XXXV. 

<"*T"*each your pupils Natural History," said a learned 
A and distinguished Doctor of Divinity, who pre- 
sided over a certain college in the West forty years ago; 
"that's enough for girls. You are in advance of the 
age; let Chemistry alone." 

And is not Chemistry a branch of Natural Science? 
It certainly is a subject calculated to train both the mind 
and the hands of young people to habits of industry, 
regularity, and order; and the necessity of carrying on 
the different steps of an operation in a systematic, cau- 
tious manner, must have a corresponding influence upon 
persons of the most careless disposition. Chemistry is 
especially requisite for the successful progress of our 
inquiries and researches into the nature of those things 
whence we derive the means of our comfort, our happi- 
ness, our luxuries, our health, and even our existence; 
for in examining the various objects which compose the 
mineral, vegetable, and animal kingdoms, it is essential. 
The Pharmacopoeia is but a collection of productive 
experiments, containing instructions for preparing the 
chemical substances employed in medicine — thus every 
intelligent girl, who has well learned the A B C's only 
of this widely extended science, is furnished with the 
means of preparing a domestic pharmacopoeia which will 
prevent that quackery so often found in families — leading 
to danger and sometimes to death. Let the mother 
understand that the "flowers of sulphur" and "arsenic," 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 413 

though so much resembling each other by candlelight, 
are widely different in nature and composition, and she 
will not leave them side by side unlabeled, neither will 
she be liable to administer a tea-spoonful of deadly poison 
instead of a gentle alterative. 

I think I hazard nothing in asserting that a large pro- 
portion of the girls who have studied chemistry under 
my tuition, even during the brief period of their school 
career, were sufficiently acquainted with its elementary 
and practical principles to render it useful to them in 
after life. Many found it the most delightful of their 
studies, practically illustrated as it was in our laboratory, 
and carried away with them a knowledge of poisons and 
antidotes that could only thus have been obtained. 
Chemical experiments upon a small scale form an admi- 
rable exercise for young students, and girls may acquire 
from them much valuable information. They have the 
further beneficial effect of habituating them to careful 
manipulation. Ignorance is not bliss, in a case where a 
mistake in the nature of a drug may endanger life. It 
is wonderful what a vast number of substances used 
in every-day life are brought within the limits of this 
science. All the processes of baking, brewing, and most 
of the culinary arts are chemical operations. We do 
not need an extensive laboratory to begin with ; materials 
in small quantities are sufficient to enable us to ascertain 
their properties and reactions on other substances; met- 
als, salts, acids, alkalies, and other commodities of the 
druggist all yield to productive experiments and give 
valuable information to the manipulator. In an experi- 
mental science, where truth lies within our reach, we 
should make use of our senses and judge for ourselves. 

Our business in teaching chemistry to girls is to make 

27 



414 Julia A. Tevis, 

them acquainted with what is already known and deter- 
mined by the experiments of others ; and if they pursue 
the study with only a moderate degree of zeal, they 
must add something daily to their stock of intelligence. 
Chemistry ought to be a stated branch of a liberal edu- 
cation in every female school. The variety of unrecorded 
facts which continually strike the eye of an industrious 
experimenter is indeed surprising; and the science is so 
entirely founded upon experiment, that no one can 
understand it fully without manipulation. The hearing 
of lectures and the reading of books will be of little ben- 
efit without this experimental instruction. 

It has long been a subject of the deepest interest to 
me, and has occupied a considerable portion of my time 
as a teacher for more than fifty years. Slow but sure in 
its uprising from chaotic darkness, its startling develop- 
ments have done much to prove that "man need not die 
before his time comes." Unveiling the hidden truths of 
the materia medica, it has placed in the hands of edu 
cated physicians remedial agents by which health is pro- 
moted and life prolonged. 

I do not mean to convey the idea that synthetic 
chemistry will, in its progress, reverse the process of final 
dissolution, or reveal an elixir that will render man im- 
pervious to disease, or shield him from the dangers 
that stand thick around him. No, that power belongs 
but to the Creator; and the sublime chemistry of the 
Bible alone reveals the process by which the desolation 
of a thousand generations shall in a moment be repaired, 
and heaven enriched with new forms of beauty, repro- 
duced immortal, from the ruins of the tomb. 

But is not health a virtue so far as it is in our power 
to preserve it? Does not a knowledge of its require- 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 415 

ments multiply our comforts and extend the sphere of 
our usefulness? Should we merely satisfy our curiosity 
by seeing the instrument and watching the fingers that 
play upon it, knowing nothing ourselves of the mysteri- 
ous essences that constitute the vital harmony of the whole? 

We turn over page after page in the great volume of 
nature; we search for the hidden glories of the mighty 
mind, and seek to grapple with its lofty aspirations; we 
bow down before the gifted impulses of genius, and strive 
to make progress in every other science, but measure- 
ably neglect this keystone in the arch. Chemistry, like 
astronomy, is replete with wonders. While the latter 
exhibits nature in the aggregate and stupendous massive- 
ness and magnitude of her empire full of grandeur and 
sublimity, the former descends to the analysis of her 
multitudinous organizations, in the minutest particulars, 
and unfolds to view that secret laboratory where daily, 
hourly, and even momently, she is engaged in producing 
her almost magical transformations. Truly, here is great 
power! It brings up the pearl from its hidden depths 
and reveals to the daylight and to the rapt gaze of the 
admirer all its beauties. It bursts the rocky incasement, 
and lets forth the imprisoned brilliancy of the diamond 
upon the world. In short, it throws wide open the capa- 
cious storehouse of earth, and brings to light and to use 
all its precious and priceless treasures. 

The well-remembered year of 1833 was one of general 
gloom with us. Every city, village, and neighborhood 
throughout Kentucky was visited by cholera. The rich- 
est portions of the State, and particularly the low lands, 
were fearfully scourged. Death was upon the highways, 
and terror in our streets. There was no use fleeing from 
one place to another. The dark wings of the destroying 



416 Julia A. Tevis. 

angel were outspread over the whole country. None 
knew when the next vial might be poured forth. 

When the cholera commenced its fearful ravages on 
the Ohio, we vainly hoped it would only skirt the river 
shores, and that we, being thirty miles inland, might 
escape. It was midsummer, and it seemed difficult to 
look up at the sky above our heads so bright in its blue 
serenity, and at our picturesque surroundings, over which 
swept a breeze seemingly so health-inspiring, and believe 
that suffering and death could be near us. As soon, 
however, as the plague began to shake his dusky spear 
over Louisville, we dismissed our day-school and asked 
the speedy removal of our boarding pupils. A few only 
remained, and these from the far South, it being unsafe 
to travel on the Mississippi River. 

The Southern and Western people were at that time 
inveterate calomel eaters, absolutely thinking it a specific 
for every disease under the sun ; and many a young dis- 
ciple of ^Esculapius started out to seek his fortune, 
armed with a bottle of calomel, nothing more; this was 
his panacea. 

A case in point will show the Cimmerian darkness 
which then prevailed in the valley of the Mississippi in 
reference to the use of this metallic poison. I found one 
day under an apple-tree, a young girl of seventeen munch- 
ing the unripe fruit at a fearful rate. I reprimanded her 
sharply for this imprudence. 

"Do you not know the cholera is abroad in the land?" 

"Yes, ma'am," she replied, "but I'm not afraid; I 
have a bottle of calomel in my trunk." 

"Where did you get it?" 

' ' I brought it from home, and know exactly how much 
to take if these apples make me sick." 



Sixty Years lv a School-room. 417 

"What! without the advice of a physician?" 

"Yes; I often take it at home for indigestion. Ma 
never allows any of us to go from home without a small 
vial of it." 

I listened with perfect astonishment, and, as I gazed 
at her pale face, now flushed with a glow of excitement, 
I thought of Moore's remark about American ladies, 
"Roses in a grave-yard." Her coral lips, when parted, 
displayed a set of decayed teeth. She was really sick 
the next day in consequence of her cramming, and 
I administered, not calomel, but salt and water — an 
effectual remedy for such indigestion. 

The deprecated evil paid Shelbyville but a short visit, 
and though it raged fearfully for a week or ten days, only 
eleven deaths occurred; and two or three of these were 
the effects of calomel, not cholera. We lost the youngest 
and darling of our flock — a lovely little boy twenty-two 
months old, reduced in a few hours from a sweet, fair- 
faced child to one having the withered appearance of old 
age, with the ashy hue peculiar to that blighting plague. 
On the same night a bright boy of fourteen passed from 
my brother's household. The latter had recovered from 
an attack of cholera, but the calomel, administered to 
him in large quantities, left its deadly impress upon his 
system, and destroyed all chance of his recovery. 

During the time it prevailed among us we were so 
strictly dieted that the finest fruits and vegetables, which 
were unusually abundant, perished where they grew, be- 
ing prohibited articles of food. The days were intensely 
hot, but we dared not enjoy the cool night breeze, 
though the bright moonlight was so inviting, for the 
physician decided that the night air was death. 

When Summer had gone, and the atmosphere no longer 



418 Julia A. Tevis. 

hung heavy with the odor of fruits and flowers, and the 
fresh cool breezes of Autumn swept over our country — 
hope, like "a sunbeam on a sullen sea," imparted cheer- 
fulness to every heart. The whole community felt a 
sense of relief, as if a weight had been lifted, and man 
met his fellow-man with a more cheerful countenance; 
and those that were left were bound together by stronger 
ties of affection and friendship. Like mariners who 
survive a sinking wreck, there were daily congratulations 
and a constant intercourse, even between those who had 
hitherto been almost strangers. 

The Indian Summer of 1833 is embalmed in my 
memory as one of great beauty. It lingered longer than 
usual, crowning the woods with intenser hues, making up 
a wealth of beauty and of glory, upon which the eye 
might revel. A dreamy warmth invested every thing 
with a palpable loveliness. The whole earth seemed 
transfigured by the soft amber drapery of that charming 
season. The clouds, as they came floating toward the 
horizon, appeared through the hazy atmosphere as if 
woven of fluttering gauze spangled with silver and gold. 
This lasted until the middle of November. 

Our Fall term had opened prosperously, and, amidst 
the busy hum of school-life, we were forgetting the 
sorrowful past, over which the remorseless waves of time 
would soon have closed completely, had not the dark 
shadow of death again fallen upon our threshold. In the 
latter part of November, after a week's illness, my 
beloved mother was taken from us — taken to that glo- 
rious and happy home toward which her footsteps had 
been tending for so many years. Though a ripe Chris- 
tian, and presenting a beautiful example of the self- 
educating power of a good life, she was not weary of 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 419 

life, but ready to give it up when asked for, having 
learned that there is no absolute rest except in submis- 
sion to the will of God. 

The sunlight of affection shone softly upon her declin- 
ing years, and her last days were among the most quiet 
and peaceful of her life. How wonderful and beautiful 
that calmness and resignation appointed to the Christian 
believer in the hour of dissolution! It is an easy thing 
to look upon the King of Terrors at a distance, but quite 
another to face him in the sharp conflict of death. How 
impressive a lesson, and what a privilege to see a fol- 
lower of the blessed Redeemer sinking into the cold 
river without a shudder, as he catches, through the 
rifted clouds, the refracted beam of a Savior's love ! So 
died this dear mother, and yet it was hard to give her 
up. Her vacant chair could never be filled; nearly the 
whole journey of my life had been made by her side. 
The past buries in oblivion all things else, before it 
effaces those lessons imprinted upon our minds, ere we 
had passed the rose-entwined boundaries of childhood. 

I remember my mother as a young, handsome woman, 
before time had bleached her raven hair, or left a wrinkle 
on her brow; before sorrow had dimmed the brilliancy 
of those clear and truthful eyes, than which I thought 
there could not be such another pair in the wide world. 
Her finely molded arm and exquisite hand were never- 
ceasing objects of admiration. From her I learned to 
love the Bible and its precious truths. She aimed to 
inspire all her children with a love of truth and a hatred 
of vice, and never placed an example before them, that 
they might not imitate. 

How often now do I, in dreams, visit my early home 
among the mountains of Virginia, and wander in fancy 



420 Julia A. Tevis, 

among those enchanting scenes, the form of my mother 
hovering around me like an angel of mercy! Oh, those 
dead and bygone years! With what a yearning does my 
heart call them back ! What pleading arms do I stretch 
out to them, so full are they of all that is dearest and 
brightest — so hard is it to let them go ! 

Home, the consolation and anchor of the world-wearied 
soul, — and what is home without a mother? I loved my 
mother, and for no consideration would I, while she lived, 
have dashed her cup with one drop of sorrow ; yet when 
she had gone I would have given worlds to call her back, 
that I might fall at her feet and ask pardon for all omis- 
sions, and renew my efforts to made her happy and com- 
fortable. I have learned to think of her now as at rest. 
Oh, if we could always thus remember our buried ones — 
think of their white robes and tuneful harps, of the spirit- 
wreaths that crown their shadowless brows — of the hands 
that bore the cross, now lifted up before the great white 
throne — think how the feet that faltered along a rough 
and darkened path now tread the streets of that Golden 
City where they have no need of the sun, nor of the 
moon, for the Lord is the light thereof, — we should rejoice 
that they are there, our beautiful and blessed dead ! And 
in the hereafter, when the sun of our own life goes down 
behind the mountains of eternity we shall join them in 
that land of the living; and when the sea of death is 
passed it matters not how mournfully its billows once 
dashed upon the shores of time. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 421 



Chapter XXXVI. 

I have but little faith in itinerant teachers and lecturers 
who profess to impart a knowledge of the sciences in 
a set number of lessons, and have rarely ever patronized 
such. It is insufferable pedantry, if not positive igno- 
rance to propose teaching Grammar by charts alone. 
Astronomy by magic -lantern exhibitions, or to pretend 
to impart a sufficient knowledge of any modern language 
in two weeks' reading. The eye may open and the 
panorama pass before it, but the impression vanishes. 
The picture must be touched and retouched until deeply 
engraven upon the mind. 

A few exceptions I have known, however, where per- 
manent good was derived from these meteoric lights. I 
have a pleasing remembrance of a Mr. Mulky, who lec- 
tured many years ago, upon the subject of Orthoepy, in 
Shelbyville. From early childhood I had been drilled 
into a correct pronunciation of the English language, 
besides having associated much in after life with the best 
speakers and writers. I treated Mr. Mulky, at first, with 
great coolness ; but after having conversed with him freely 
upon the subject, and examined his unfolded plan, I 
found there was yet room for improvement. My con- 
stant practice through life has been "to listen and to 
learn." Solomon deigned to receive instruction from a 
bee, and none of us are Solomons. 

I was also well acquainted with Professor Bronson, 
decidedly the best elocutionist I ever knew. His reading, 



422 Julia A. Tevis. 

I might well say dramatic impersonation, was so charac- 
teristic, so artistically complete and telling. Then, too, 
his voice was so flexible, its intonation so perfect, that he 
charmed his auditors into enthusiastic admiration. When 
he lectured, it was like listening to fine music — every 
note, syllable, and word carried its full force. His style 
was beautiful, and enriched with gems of wisdom selected 
from the treasured stores of his extensive reading. Mr. 
Bronson was an earnest, aspiring, industrious man, his 
eminence in his profession being the result of untiring 
energy. He possessed the power of giving graceful 
utterance to his emotions, and thus produced in others 
the sensations that thrilled his own bosom with ecstasy. 
Full of the poetry of life and thought, ardent and impul- 
sive, he became morally powerful and intellectually emi- 
nent; but his enthusiatic devotion to the science of 
Elocution, upon which he wrote, lectured, and talked, 
sometimes led him beyond plain matter of fact. 

It is about as difficult to make a man unlearn his errors 
as his knowledge. Mal-information is more hopeless than 
non- information; for error is always more busy than 
ignorance. The latter is a blank sheet on which we may 
write; but the former is a scribbled one, from which we 
must first erase. Ignorance is contented to stand still, 
with her back to the truth ; but Error is more presump- 
tuous, and proceeds in the same direction. Ignorance 
has no light, but Error follows a false one. The conse- 
quence is that Error, when she retraces her steps, has 
farther to go before she can arrive at the truth than 
Ignorance. Hence the difficulty of attempting to teach 
children to spell, pronounce, or read correctly, unless you 
begin with the Alphabet. Now, our Alphabet has only 
twenty -six characters to represent thirty -six sounds. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 423 

Until this deficiency is supplied, children ought to be 
thoroughly taught to utter the different sounds of the 
vowels as if each had its written name. 

I think both Mr. Mulky and Mr. Bronson were men 
of peculiar tact, taste, and ability; but they never received 
the patronage they deserved. Error and prejudice in 
favor of the "old ways" operated against them. But 
the drafts which true genius draws upon the public, 
although they may not be honored as soon as they are 
due, are sure to be paid with compound interest in 
the end. 

"O girls," exclaimed a rosy-cheeked little gypsy, 
running against a knot of her companions, who stood in 
the yard trying to get a peep at the new-comer, "our 
new music -teacher has come. She is as tall as a grena- 
dier, but does not look as if she ever drank a pot of 
beer. There, now! don't I remember Mother Goose, — 
though Mrs. Tevis says I never recollect any thing?" 

"Capital news," said one. "Does she look good- 
humored? I hope she is more agreeable than that cross 
old bear, Mr. S. If she is not I '11 give up music, or 
feign sickness, to get rid of my lessons." 

"Nonsense!" chimed in another; "you'll do no such 
thing. However, she looks well, notwithstanding the 
reflection of this cold, gray, February sky." 

"Stop," said a third; "don't let us pass judgment 
until we know something about her." 

The supper -bell rang, and the youthful gossips, min- 
gling with their companions, followed their dignified 
teachers into the dining-room. Miss D. sat at my right 
hand, all the time fluttered and uncomfortable, as if fully 
aware of the glances slyly directed towards her from 



424 Julia A. Tevis. 

every part of the table. She was actually running the 
gauntlet, and they were taking notes. 

As soon as the girls were released from the table they 
congregated in the school- room to comment upon the 
interesting stranger, glad of any little excitement to 
break the monotony of boarding-school life. All talked 
at once; there were no listeners. 

As I was entering the school-room shortly after, for 
the purpose of inviting a few of the older pupils into the 
parlor, I noticed an unusual excitement among the girls, 
and paused a moment unperceived at the half-open door. 
They were gathered in clusters, conversing with animated 
gestures upon the all-absorbing topic of the new teacher. 

"I hope I shall like her," said a bright -eyed little 
girl. "I love music dearly, and I would rather take 
lessons from a nice young lady than a cross old man." 

"I don't intend to try to like her," chimed in a fair- 
looking girl, as she pushed back the silky braids of light 
hair from her alabaster brow. I declare this humdrum 
school life is insupportable. I am tired to death of strict 
rules and watchful teachers. I want a breeze." 

"You may do as you please," said one of my good 
girls; "but, mind what I tell you, the rules here, in 
regard to respectful obedience, are like the laws of the 
Medes and Persians." 

"Humph! what do I care for the rules? I shall take 
no more trouble than I please. I am sick of music, any 
how; and all teachers are hateful." 

"Hush!" cried another; "make the best of it. My 
motto is, Be good, be industrious, and write Wisdom on 
the wings of time." 

I selected a few of the best performers among the 
older pupils, returned to the parlor, and introduced them 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 425 

to Miss D., who entered into a free and easy conversa- 
tion with them. I noticed how eagerly they listened, 
and was charmed with the simple modesty of their replies. 

Miss D. was certainly a prepossessing woman. Her 
face, in repose, wore a sad, sweet expression, and her 
fine dark eyes were radiant with feeling and intelligence. 
Presently she invited one of the girls to the piano, who 
sang and played several pieces, aad then resigned her 
place to one of the best performers in the school. She 
executed one or two of her most brilliant solos. Then 
some duets followed, and the girls crowded around, beg- 
ging Miss D. to favor them with some music in return. 
She declined, evincing at the same time a painful embar- 
rassment which brought a deep blush upon her face. I 
should not perhaps have noticed this, as blushes had been 
the livery of the evening, had not Miss D. immediately 
requested permission to retire, on the plea of fatigue. 

It was late at night, the stars had long been keeping 
watch in the quiet skies, and yet the light still shone 
from the window of Miss D. 's room. Fearing she might 
be sick, I stepped across the way, and, in passing the 
window, caught a glimpse of her. She was in a kneel- 
ing posture, with several pieces of music spread out be- 
fore her on the carpet. Her hands were clasped closely 
against her heart as if to quiet its throbbings. Her half- 
raised face wore a pale, quiet, resigned look of intense 
suffering. I gently tapped at the door; springing to her 
feet, she admitted me, but covered with confusion, burst 
into tears. 

"What is the matter, my dear Miss D., are you sick?" 

"Yes, heart-sick," she replied. "I have undertaken 
what I can not accomplish. I can not teach instru- 
mental music in your school. But," she continued, 



426 Julia A. Tevis. 

while her tears fell thick and fast, "do not think me an 
impostor. I am innocent of any intention to deceive. 
Seeing your advertisement for an assistant music-teacher, 
and, having been for several years a teacher of vocal 
music, with some practical knowledge of the piano, I was 
persuaded by my injudicious, and, I might well say, igno- 
rant, friends to apply for the situation. 'With your 
theoretical knowledge,' said they, 'you are capable of 
giving lessons on the piano, and may do so without pre- 
sumption in the far West, where there are so few fine 
musicians, and the pupils in their best schools are but 
beginners.' You may well imagine my astonishment at 
the performance of the young ladies in the parlor this 
evening; my mortification is inexpressible. I am not fit 
for the place. What shall I do?" 

A fresh burst of tears relieved her overcharged heart, 
and we were both silent for some minutes. I resolved 
upon my course at once, charmed into sympathy by her 
candid acknowledgment. I seated myself by her side, 
and we entered into as confidential a conversation as if 
we had never been strangers. Believing from her own 
account of her success as a teacher of vocal music that it 
would be well to retain her, I proposed that she should 
take charge of a singing-class, and devote a portion of 
her time also to teaching in the primary department. 
We had a large number of children in our school at that 
time, and I had long desired to have singing introduced 
as a regular branch of their education. The proposition 
was gratefully accepted. 

Miss D. proved to be an amiable, interesting woman, 
of refined manners and cultivated tastes. Often during 
the hours of recess the older girls might be seen flocking 
around her, asking assistance in learning their new songs, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 427 

or seeking advice in some projected amusement. She 
made herself so agreeable, that even the girls who at 
first determined not to like her became her fast friends; 
while she was almost worshiped by her little pupils, 
whom she made as happy as the birds in their Summer 
bowers. A new impulse was given to their mirth, and 
their gleeful songs resounded through the play-ground. 
Thus what commenced in sorrow with her ended in joy. 
Her stay at Science Hill was an episode of sunshine 
and singing. I am somewhat of the opinion held by the 
good old German teacher who set his boys to singing 
when they were perverse and cross, as, he said, "to drive 
the devil out." 

In the course of my long experience as a teacher, I 
have seen so many painful results of the neglect of early 
instruction, that I shall not be blamed for reverting to it 
again. One fact is worth a thousand fictions. In ap- 
pointing woman as a helpmate, the Creator marked her 
destiny; and, to fit her for the task, mercifully infused 
into her soul deep attachment for home, and that con- 
stancy in affection which rarely decays till her heart is 
cold in death ; and it is a well-established fact, that where 
opportunities are afforded, and motives for exertion pre- 
sented, the female mind possesses sufficient soundness 
and power to rise above the superficial, the showy, and 
the frivolous. It is worse than weak, it is wicked, in 
those who have the charge of these immortal souls dur- 
ing the state of their pupilage to let them grow up with 
no higher aim than to heighten and set off their personal 
attractions by external adornment. 

Firmness in the discharge of a conscientious duty is 
often of great importance, and it should be the study 
of our lives to stand erect even among those "who care 



428 Julia A. Tevis. 

for none of these things;" knowing that truth only can 
administer to our happiness and reflect a permanent radi- 
ance upon the heart. 

I faithfully promised, when we first commenced house- 
keeping, that I would conduct worship at the family altar 
when my husband was absent, unless some other person 
were present who could officiate. This was always a 
trial; but never once did I neglect or evade the duty. 
The path was plain, and I realized the blessed promise, 
"As thy day so shall thy strength be." 

Once we had in school a fragrant little human blossom 
which had been suffered to waste its sweetness "on the 
desert air" in one of the wildest and rudest portions of 
our State. Until she entered her teens she had been in a 
mixed school of chubby-cheeked, freckled-faced, romping 
children, where she had learned to read, but not to under- 
stand. Her pious Methodist mother, though one of the 
gentlest of human beings, "comely and delicate," refined 
in manners and agreeable in conversation, was entirely 
uneducated. The father was a rough, good-natured Bruin, 
with mind as uncouth as his manners, looking for all the 
world as if brought up on "hog and hominy." Profane 
to a proverb, yet respecting his religious wife, he left his 
only daughter entirely to her direction. This daughter 
was literally the keystone in the arch of the mother's 
existence. She was early taught to love God, and keep 
his commandments; and when old enough to leave home, 
the mother brought her to our school with a request that 
we would finish what she had begun. The child was 
delighted with the Sabbath-school, and enjoyed the priv- 
ilege of attending Church every Sunday. At home she 
had heard preaching not oftener than once a month. 

The first time her father came to visit her, he seemed 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 429 

exceedingly embarrassed, and scarce knew how to con- 
duct himself; but the caresses of his daughter, and the 
welcome he received, soon reassured him. He was in- 
vited to tarry with us. Mr. Tevis was not at home, and 
my asking a blessing at supper appeared to confound 
him. He spoke but little, and hardly raised his eyes 
during the meal. Half an hour after the bell rang again. 

"What's that bell for?" 

"Prayers," replied the daughter. 

Well," said he, "you can stay and chat with me until 
it is over." 

"No, papa, we must go in; every body attends fam- 
ily prayers, no matter who is here." 

"Well, go ahead; I suppose I must follow." 

He walked in and took a seat near the door, listened 
attentively to the reading of the Scriptures, and appeared 
deeply interested during the whole service, reverently 
bowing down with the rest. It was touching to behold 
him kneeling there among, 

"Fair young heads, 
With all their clustering locks untouched by care." 

When rising from his knees, he caught the hand of his 
little daughter, who, with a blush on her bright face and 
an expression of love in her clear, eloquent eyes, followed 
him into the parlor. 

"Well," said he, drawing a long breath, "that's the 
first time I ever was on my knees in my life, and 
wouldn't ha' been then, hadn't a woman prayed." 

He told a friend afterwards that he would not have 

been so much scared before an army of men as he was 

in that prayer-room full of young girls; "and," he 

added, as a shade of sadness stole over his rough face, 

"I shall never forget it." 

28 



43° Julia A. Tevis. 



Chapter XXXVII. 

During the Summer of 1834 my health and strength 
rapidly declined, and I was scarcely able to pass 
through the ordeal of the closing exercises of the school 
in July. My physician advised a change of scene and 
entire release from care. We left home the first week in 
August, intending to visit Harrodsburg Springs; trav- 
eled slowly in a private conveyance — Mr. Tevis and 
myself, with a child six months old and a nurse. The 
first day's journey ended in Frankfort. Here Ave met an 
intelligent physician, who, after having made himself 
acquainted with my case, pronounced it bronchitis, 
which, if not speedily arrested, would terminate in con- 
sumption. This was a new idea, although my voice had 
been reduced almost to a whisper, and it was with diffi- 
culty I swallowed food enough to keep me alive. I do 
not know whether his opinion troubled me much, as I 
felt satisfied the Lord would let me live till my work was 
done, and I could trust him for the time whether it were 
days, months, or years. I knew also that my recupera- 
tive powers were very great. 

Early the next morning we continued our journey 
towards Lexington, as our physician had earnestly recom- 
mended "Blue Lick" instead of "Harrodsburg." Sick 
and languid as I was, having had a poor, thin sort of 
sleep, in which I did not entirely lose consciousness, 
there still dwelt within me that well-spring of healthy 
vitality, which always responded to the cheerful influence 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 431 

of a fine morning. The advancing day was lovely. The 
air from over the hills breathed the fragrance of new- 
mown grass, and we were sheltered from the heat of the 
sun by the dense foliage of overhanging trees. Nature 
wore her coronation robes, trailing their radiance in our 
pathway. Soft Summer clouds were sailing in the blue 
sky above like white-winged vessels freighted with pearls 
for some impoverished land. At noon we rested and 
lunched by the side of a clear spring, under the branches 
of a sugar maple, which hung its grateful shadows over 
the green turf. Early in the afternoon we reached Lex- 
ington, and here met some pleasant friends, who spent 
the evening with us. 

We left the next morning at a very early hour, in 
order to avoid the heat of the day and reach the end of 
our journey before night. During the forenoon we trav- 
eled through "a land flowing with milk and honey." 
The scenery was a continued panorama of blue-grass 
meadows with tangled wilds of verdure. That delicious 
day is embalmed in my recollection as a "joy forever." 

When we reached the little bridge flung across the 
Licking River, we paused for a short time to take a view 
of the surrounding country. On the left, beyond the 
river, was the rocky ridge, its bold front cutting sharply 
against the sky, upon which was fought the battle of 
"Blue Licks," August 19, 1782 — the bloodiest and most 
disastrous in the annals of savage warfare except Brad- 
dock's defeat. A deep ravine on each side of this ridge, 
thickly entangled with bushes, enabled the Indians to lie 
in ambush and watch in silence the coming enemy. 
Quietly they waited until the Kentucky troops had 
reached the top of the ridge, which was perfectly bare 
except a few dwarfish cedars, and a multitude of rocks 



432 Julia A. Tevis. 

spread over the surface, rendering it still more desolate 
in appearance. 

One may well imagine the feelings of our brave men 
when, having reached the summit without hearing a 
sound or seeing a foe, the terrific war-cry of the savages 
rang out upon the air. The} 7 were soon completely sur- 
rounded by a force far outnumbering their own. No 
alternative remained but to cut their way through, which 
was done with a bravery and desperation worthy the 
palmiest days of Sparta. The Indians contested every 
foot of ground, and compelled them occasionally to stand 
at bay. The slaughter was greatest in a large cedar 
grove near the river bank. That grove is now set in 
blue grass, and affords a delightful retreat for visitors 
during the heat of the day. Finally, our men dashed 
tumultuously into the stream, the Indians in hot pursuit, 
mingling with the whites in one rolling, irregular mass. 
Some of the fugitives, plunging into the thickets, escaped 
by a circuitous route to Bryant's station, twenty miles 
distant. Others found a passage above the ford by 
swimming. Many who could not swim, were overtaken 
and killed at the edge of the water. A few finely 
mounted horsemen crossed the river in safety, and firing 
upon the Indians saved those friends still struggling in 
the stream. The result of this terrible battle shrouded 
the new settlements of Kentucky in mourning. 

I was struck with the insignificance of Licking River, 
whose sluggish waters flowed sleepily onward, swaying 
the masses of weeds just beneath the surface. The river 
banks were overgrown with reeds and willows, and the 
dull, gurgling sound of the water added a deeper gloom 
to the surrounding solitude. After crossing the bridge, 
a drive of about two hundred yards brought us to the 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 433 

boarding-house, which, at that period, did not present 
a very inviting aspect. There was a lawn shaded by tall 
evergreens, with here and there a venerable old tree. 
These have long since been removed, and extensive and 
beautiful improvements have taken their place. The 
Blue Lick was not a fashionable watering-place, but the 
resort principally of invalids, with the few who were 
seeking quiet and retirement from the busy haunts 
of men. 

My first night was a rest indeed, and I did not awake 
in the morning until the sun was flooding my chamber 
with its silent arousal. Half a glass of wine and a piece 
of bread constituted my first breakfast there. Having, 
in vain, endeavored to drink the water when deprived 
of its sparkling effervescence, I was obliged to walk 
to the spring, which I could not accomplish the first 
day without assistance, though the distance was short. 
There I found health-seeking invalids drinking and rest- 
ing alternately and watching the new-comers in their 
laughable efforts to swallow the distasteful water. Some 
caught the sparkling bubbles of gas as they streamed up 
to the surface, and swallowed cup after cup, looking, for 
all the world, as I fancy Socrates did when he drank the 
hemlock, doubting whether it would really introduce him 
into Elysian fields or not. I drank sparingly, but at 
short intervals. My appetite gradually increased, as my 
health improved, and in less than a week I was able to 
take my meals at the "table if Jwte" and stroll over the 
grounds without assistance. 

The spot, at that time, was as solitary and romantic as 
an oasis in the desert, though situated on the renowned 
Maysville turnpike, not then finished, yet it was the 
great thoroughfare of the State. The spring flows appar- 



434 Julia A. Tevis. 

ently from an exhaustless source, and, like the wells 
of Solomon, it is ever brimming. Bubbles of gas are 
constantly chasing each other to the surface, and spread- 
ing over it like gleaming sun-jewels. Sulphuretted hydro- 
gen, carbonic acid, common salt, sulphate of magnesia, 
and soda are the principal elements. For many years it 
is well known that this water has been an important 
article of commerce. Thousands of barrels are annually 
exported, enriching the owners independently of the 
profits derived from visitors. 

At an early day it was a place of great importance, as 
it was chiefly here that the first settlers procured their 
supplies of salt. In January, 1778, Boone was encamped 
in the vicinity with about thirty others making salt for 
the different stations. This cane-covered land was the 
Indian hunter's paradise. Numerous herds of buffalo, 
elk, and deer roamed over the hills and through the 
valleys of the Licking. 

One day, when Boone was out hunting alone, he 
encountered more than a hundred Indians. He instantly 
fled, but being over fifty years of age, could not outstrip 
the young warriors in pursuit, and was taken prisoner. 
According to their custom he was treated kindly until 
his fate was determined. They led him back to his 
encampment. Here the whole party of whites surren- 
dered upon condition of being spared and well treated. 
The savages faithfully observed this promise. How 
differently have the civilized whites acted ! Timidity was 
an unpardonable blemish in the character of a Kentucky 
huntsman, and so, indeed, was mercy toward an Indian. 

It was an established rule among the early settlers 
never to suffer an Indian aggression to go unpunished, 
but to retaliate a hundred fold; and sometimes when no 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 435 

resistance was offered, their villages were reduced to 
ashes, their corn cut up, and their whole country laid 
waste with unsparing severity. No quarter was given, 
no prisoners taken — every thing within the reach of the 
avenger was completely destroyed. The brutal ferocity 
of the whites on some occasions might call a blush to the 
cheek of a savage. 

The first day of February, 1835, we left home with 
the intention of visiting some of the Eastern cities. 
Our party consisted of Mr. Tevis, myself, my sister 
Arabella, and Eliza Ann Wilson, a lovely young girl, 
who had been one of my pupils, and was just about to 
step upon the tapis of society. Our trip to Louisville 
was charming. The morning was spring-like, the birds 
singing in the leafless trees, and the little streams winding 
through meadows, which had worn their green garments 
all Winter. There was loveliness on the earth and in 
the air, and all nature smiled a welcome for the coming 
Spring. 

Before we reached Louisville, however (we traveled in 
slow coaches then), we felt an ominous keenness in the 
air, which compelled us to wrap our mantles close about 
us. The next morning we took passage on a small, but 
comfortable, steamer for Pittsburg. The cold continued 
to increase, and by the time we reached Cincinnati ice 
began to appear in the river, and we began to apprehend 
that we had mistaken the season; however, we were not 
discouraged. We had quite a reunion of friends and 
acquaintances on board, and among them merchants from 
Shelbyville going for their Spring goods. Our little town 
boasted at that time of not less than fifteen dry-goods 
stores, which were principally supplied from the Eastern 
markets. 



436 Juua A. Tevis. 

We frequently met in the ladies' cabin, and each tried 
to make to-day agreeable, heedless of to-morrow. On 
the afternoon of the first day out from Cincinnati, it was 
discovered, to the horror and amazement of every body 
on board, that we had barely escaped being blown up. 
What a scene ensued! Every body talked; nobody list- 
ened; the ladies screamed, although the danger was over, 
and the captain swore at a terrible rate. 

A careless deck hand had left a piece of candle, not 
more than an inch long, stuck on the corner of a pine 
box in the hold of the vessel. The mate fortunately 
entered the hold in time to extinguish the just kindling 
box, which was a large and heavy one containing kegs 
of powder. Upon inquiry, it was found that the contra- 
band article had been smuggled on board. After dili- 
gent search the culprit was found and dragged into the 
cabin, half dead with fear. The captain could scarcely 
be prevented from pitching the man overboard, though 
the poor fellow solemnly declared that he had taken 
charge of the box at the solicitation of a friend, without 
knowing its contents. The passengers pleaded for him, 
and, while arguing the matter, a flat-bottomed boat was 
seen coming down the river, and the difficulty was set- 
tled by putting the man and his box on the boat to 
float back to Cincinnati. 

During the excitement, in which every body seemed 
to join, I was amused watching the imperturbable gravity 
of an old German, who sat smoking his pipe until the 
drama was over. 

"Well den," said he [I had taken a seat near him], 
"here is von great fuss for notin' at all." 

"Why," said I, "we were in great danger of being 
blown up." 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 437 

"Vy, vat you care for dat? dat 's notin'. I vas been 
blown up vonce, and, ven all vas over, I finds myself 
sittin' on a tree, notin' lost but my shmok-bipe and mine 
hat." Then he grunted and smoked away more vigor- 
ously than ever. 

"Was nobody hurt?" said I. 

"Oh, yas, some legs, some arms vas gone, and many 
folks vas kilt." And he smoked again without the slight- 
est evidence of concern for maimed humanity or dark- 
ened homes. 

"Well," said I, "I wonder you ever came upon a 
steamboat again." 

He uttered a guttural laugh, and said, as he shrugged 
his shoulders, "Dere is no help for it. Ve must travel; 
if de steamboat blows up, den it must blow up, and if 
ve gets kilt, den ve travels no more." 

Never in my life did I meet with a more thorough 
"I care for nobody, no not I, nobody cares for me." 

Each succeeding day brought an increase of cold, 
thickened the ice, and thus we moved but slowly onward. 
To add to our discomfort, provisions were growing scarce. 
The captain had expected to supply himself, as usual, by 
stopping at different landings, or purchasing from the 
riverside market-people, who always brought fresh butter, 
eggs, and fowls to supply boats as they passed along. 
The ice-incrusted shores prevented our landing, and finally 
we were reduced to one meal a day, of crackers, tea, 
and rice. The wood was giving out, the fires in the 
furnaces could not be kept up, and it was feared the 
river would soon be blocked up with our "phantom 
ship" in the midst of it. 

Meantime we were cutting our way slowly through 
the accumulating ice, striving to reach Guyandotte, the 



438 Julia A. Tevis. 

nearest place where we could hope to find relief. In the 
midst of these depressions, with the apprehension of 
some greater calamity, every body was good-humored 
and amiable. One evening while walking the guards 
rapidly for exercise, we heard a stentorian voice on the 
lower deck addressing an apparently listening audience. 
Curiosity drew many of the cabin passengers below, and 
there stood a tall, double-fisted fellow, mounted on a ros- 
trum, swaying his arms like a Fourth of July orator, and 
holding forth in something like the following: 

"Fellow-travelers, — I exhort you to courage and sub- 
mission to your lot. I know you are a miserable set of 
sinners, and so is your humble servant; and as we must 
fast we ought to pray also. Do n't let his Satanic maj- 
esty have dominion over you any longer. Awake from 
the sleep into which the old Sarpent has lulled you and 
clear away the mists from your bleared eyes. Now do n't 
be down-hearted. I should be ashamed if any of my 
brave companions could n't face hunger as well as cold — 
and as for the tea, crackers, and rice, do n't let 's be nig- 
gardly about them, give to the weaker sex the last mor- 
sel on board. Three cheers for the ladies! God bless 
them!" The cheers came with a hearty good will. 
"And now in conclusion, friends and fellow-sufferers, I 
would whisper a word in your ears," and, lowering his 
voice, "I am afraid we have a Jonas on board, sent, 
perhaps, to preach to some great Nineveh (Cincinnati, it 
may be), but, instead of going, has hid himself among us 
poor sailors. Now if the worst comes to the worst, we 
will pitch him — not into the sea — but into ■ the ice." 
Thus did these hungry but jolly and good-natured fellows 
while away their unemployed and uncomfortable time. 

Night came on soon after, a moonless night. Jagged 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 439 

and heavy masses of clouds, broken occasionally so as to 
let a single star peer through upon the darkness below, 
were swept swiftly over the sky by a howling north wind. 
We went supperless to bed, to sleep or to await, with 
what fortitude we might, the coming day. Contrary to 
our expectations the wind died away during the night, 
and before sunrise the men had cut and cleared away the 
ice around the vessel ; their efforts being aided afterwards 
by the heat of the sun, Ave were enabled to move on- 
ward, though the cold was intense. Some of the gentle- 
men, becoming impatient at our detention, left the boat 
and walked across to the Virginia shore, and thence on- 
ward seven or eight miles, until they reached a station- 
house, whence they journeyed on by stage, leaving their 
baggage on the boat to be forwarded. 

I never shall forget that cold Friday afternoon when 
the remainder of us reached Guyandotte. This town is 
situated on a bluff. The steamboat could not reach the 
shore, and we walked across the ice. The wind swept 
around the sides of the surrounding hills with the 
force of a hurricane. But we were amply rewarded 
when we reached the hotel. Blazing log fires, warm, 
comfortable rooms, and downy beds awaited us. We 
were first ushered into a cheerful dining-room, and, be- 
ing closely drawn together by common misfortunes, we 
formed but one party, about twenty in number. A 
supper of delicious, well-cooked venison, rich coffee, and 
hot buckwheat cakes in abundance, satisfied our appe- 
tites, and rendered us a cheerful company of way-worn 
travelers. A night of balmy sleep restored our tired 
natures and buried the memory of our discomforts. 

The next day we marshaled our forces, and found 
each member of the party disposed to contribute to the 



44o Julia A. Tevis. 

comfort of the others during our sojourn at Mr. Wright's. 
Captain William Winlock, a merchant and good Meth- 
odist brother from Shelbyville, was the Orpheus of our 
company. His soul was full of music, and he played 
exquisitely on the violin. So chaste and beautiful were 
his selections that even the most conscientious could not 
object to the instrument; on the contrary, its tone thrilled 
in harmony with all that was elevating, noble, and de- 
vout, quieting the restless pulse of care and beguiling 
the tired spirit into rest. 

My husband was too faithful a follower of John Wes- 
ley to remain idle. He prayed wherever he could, and 
went out every day, freezing cold as it was, to hunt up 
the Methodists in the neighborhood. Once I went with 
him, three miles in the country, to spend the day with 
as primitive a Methodist family as might have been found 
in the days of Whitefield and the Wesleys. The sky 
was overcast, and the clouds were burdened with a 
wealth of snow, that soon began to fall so thick and fast 
as nearly to blind us, and we quite lost our way. The 
only alternative was to give the reins to the horse ; and, 
after a few windings and turnings, he took us safely to 
the place, an old-fashioned, substantially built farm-house, 
with a long porch in front, and a little room cut off at 
one end. This had been the homestead for many gener- 
ations. We were met on the threshold by a dignified 
old man, dressed in homespun, and his matronly wife, 
neatly attired in a dark worsted gown. She was followed 
by her daughter, a lovely young woman, all greeting us 
heartily, and ushering us into the best room. A blaz- 
ing fire burned in the wide-open fireplace. The hearth- 
stone was white and polished; a carpet of domestic man- 
ufacture covered the floor; heavy, high-backed chairs of 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 441 

mahogany were arranged around the room, and in the 
chimney-corners were large, cozy arm-chairs. An antique 
looking-glass, with a mahogany frame, hung at an angle 
of ten degrees, according the fashion of the times ; andi 
a tall, old-fashioned clock completed the furniture of a 
room genteel enough for any body. Sofas, marble man- 
tels, and folding doors were not considered indispensably 
necessary, by these simple-hearted people to render the' 
house tenantable; yet they were rich in this world's 
goods, and distributed liberally to the poor. The way- 
faring man and the stranger found a welcome at their 
hospitable board. Their sons and daughters had been 
educated intellectually as well as religiously, and had 
gone forth into the world to be blessings to society. 

What a delightful home, thought I, as I looked 
around and felt the glowing warmth of the clear, snap- 
ping wood-fire, with its huge logs looking as if they 
might never be consumed. 

My own busy life rose up before me, and I almost 
envied this "retreat from care, which never must be 
mine." I fell quite in love with the family, and affec- 
tionately venerated the two old people; such power there 
is in established piety. 

An enthusiast in antiquities, I strive to lay under con- 
tribution all the well -stricken in years within my reach, 
and deem it the performance of a grateful duty to society 
to rescue from oblivion the long gone and forgotten anec- 
dotes and curious facts connected with the early settle- 
ment of my country. Many circumstances, not of suffi- 
cient importance to be admitted into history, may find 
their proper place in biography. They will amuse our 
children; and, indeed, there is much of which the younger 
part of the present generation is wholly ignorant. These 



442 Julia A. Tevis. 

things, trifles as they may at first appear, are worth pre- 
serving; all who remember the olden times will do well 
to contribute their mite. Unfortunately, the prevailing 
spirit of the age is to make all things new; and the gen- 
eration which, by personal knowledge or by tradition, 
possesses the power of telling things just as they were 
is fast passing away. 

These dear old people contributed much to our enter- 
tainment by their reminiscences of the first settlers in 
Western Virginia, entering into the minutiae of their 
customs and habits, far more illustrative of their charac- 
ter than great events. They were rich in traditions 
handed down through a line of ancestry extending back 
to Captain John Smith. 

It was near nine o'clock at night when we left this 
hospitable family, and we enjoyed the drive back exceed- 
ingly. The full moon was looking down from a clear 
sky, sprinkling with silvery showers rock, tree, and shrub, 
and clothing in mysterious loveliness the yet untrodden 
snow. A guide accompanied us until within sight of 
the town. 

A week had passed, and we were still at Guyandotte, 
watching the ice as it floated down the river; yet we 
were spending our time neither in a sad nor useless man- 
ner. The Sabbath was near at hand, and it was decided 
that we should have religious service in the school-house. 
There was no church in this little town set on a hill; but 
they did not suffer the watch-fires of religion to be ex- 
tinguished, nor put their candle under a bushel, but 
gladly embraced every opportunity of hearing the Gospel 
preached. The appointment was published abroad during 
the week, but the weather was so intensely cold that the 
conereeation was small — the quests from the hotel and a 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 443 

few towns -people; yet the preacher needed not a large 
audience to call forth his soul in behalf of sinners. His 
conscience held him with a grasp of iron to unceasing 
labor in the vineyard of the Lord, and a sense of duty 
awakened an enthusiasm that enabled him to preach with 
as much earnestness to one as to many. The closing 
appeal was forcible and eloquent; and no doubt some 
felt the influence of deep and irrepressible feeling in the 
preacher, and dated convictions from that hour that 
told not only upon their future lives, but upon their 
eternal destiny. Who knows? 

Ten days elapsed before the joyful news was announced 
that the captain thought we could proceed on our trip 
with but slight impediment from the ice. Many who 
landed with us at Guyandotte had found an opportunity 
of going through Virginia by stage, so that our party 
was considerably reduced in number. 

One bright morning we bade adieu to Mr. and Mrs. 
Wright, not without regret. They had contributed so 
much to our comfort and happiness during our sojourn 
in their model hotel that, though we met them as 
strangers, we left them as friends. We were soon com- 
fortably situated on the brave little steamer, congratulat- 
ing each other on the prospect of a speedy termination 
of our journey. But we had proceeded only a few miles 
up the river, when such a quantity of floating ice came 
crushing and crowding around us, and so impeded our 
progress, that it was late in the afternoon before we 
reached Gallipolis, — we could proceed no farther. The 
river was completely blocked across, and we had to walk 
on the ice to reach the shore. 

Surely, never did any little town present so gloomy an 
appearance. The miserable little tavern that received us 



444 Julia A. Tevis. 

was crowded with all sorts of travelers, presenting no 
evidence of comfort within or around it. For the first 
time I felt discouraged and homesick, and declared I 
would go no farther, and would take no part in the con- 
sultation as to what was to be done next. It was finally 
concluded that if a conveyance could be found we would 
cross the country to Chillicothe, whence we might pro- 
ceed on our route by stage-coach over the great Na- 
tional Road as far as Wheeling, and thence through 
Pennsylvania. 

After an hour's search an old coach was found, be- 
longing to the mail contractor, once used as a passenger- 
coach, but now, as the road was little traveled, and the 
country sparsely settled, the mail was carried on horse- 
back. The mail-carrier undertook to drive the coach for 
a consideration. The landlord was asked if he could 
furnish some straw or hay to put in the bottom of the 
coach, which was leaky, and hardly road-worthy. 

"Hay! no, indeed," said he; "and straw are skercer 
still." 

So onward we moved, but so slowly that I was satis- 
fied the driver was a cautious man. We had proceeded 
about half a dozen miles when we reached a declivity in 
the road made slippery by the snow and ice, and the 
passengers were requested to turn out, — the gentlemen 
being informed, meantime, that they must hold up the 
coach on one side to keep it from turning over. 

"Can't the ladies stay in?" said the four gentlemen, 
as they tumbled themselves out. 

"To be sure they must," said Mr. Tevis, "for it is 
impossible for them to walk down this hill." 

"They be liken to have their necks broke if they do," 
coolly replied the driver. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 445 

The ladies were all out before the sentence was fin- 
ished. The night was dark, but the dimly burning lan- 
terns aided us in finding the way, though we were slip- 
ping, sliding, and trembling at every few steps. One 
queer fellow, who had at first positively declared he 
would not get out, as he had paid for his passage and 
the driver was responsible for his safety, was rolling and 
turning summersaults all the way down the hill, to the 
infinite amusement of the whole company. 

After the perilous descent was accomplished the driver 
picked up his passengers, and moved on again at the rate 
of two miles an hour till midnight. 

At last we came to a dwelling standing quite alone — 
a large, rambling log -cabin. Through the unchinked 
walls and open door issued an inviting light, which made 
us insist upon getting out to warm. By this time our 
discontented passenger, who had refused to get out, and 
had been left behind in the snow, made his appearance, 
and we all entered the cabin without ceremony as there 
was no door at which to knock. The fire was replen- 
ished from a brush -heap in the corner, and around this 
we all gathered, chatting merrily over our misfortunes — 
not as yet having seen any sign of an inhabitant. 

Presently the gentlemen began to talk politics, and 
Jackson's Administration was alternately abused and 
lauded. The United States Bank, the Maysville Turn- 
pike, and the President's vetoes were the all-absorbing 
topics. One gentleman declared that Jackson was worthy 
of being elevated to the standard of General Washington. 
Just then, to our extreme amazement, a loud voice from 
the remotest corner of the room cried out: 

"Yes; I '11 tell you where he ought to be elevated — 
on a gallns high as Hainan's." 



446 Julia A. Tevis. 

Then a weird -looking figure, whose elf locks seemed 
electrified by the cold, walked slowly up to us. Some 
of the company rose to their feet. 

"Keep your seats, ladies and gentlemen" — we were 
all sitting on the floor — "you are heartily welcome to 
warm by my fire. Sorry I ain't got nothin' to treat you 
with — not a drap of liquor in the house. I 'd ax you to 
eat a bite, only my wife and children 's asleep, and we 
ain't got nothin' cooked." 

Involuntarily I turned to the corner whence he sprang, 
and there saw a mound of dirty bedclothes, under which 
they were all probably snugged away. 

" Living in a house without any door, 
With an unlaid hearth and an unfinished floor," 

and discussing the affairs of a nation! Could he read? 
Doubtful. But he was twenty -one, could vote, and was 
one of "the people." 

We resumed our journey, the darkness of the night 
relieved only by our lanterns dimly burning. The road 
becoming rougher and the country wilder, the horses 
were fatigued, and stumbled dreadfully, being scarcely 
able to drag us along. No dwelling-houses were to be 
seen. We were so cold and restless that sleep was a 
stranger to our eyelids, and the night seemed interminable. 

But "time and the hour passed." Morning broke, 
and before eight o'clock we reached the breakfast station. 
It seemed that they had received information of our 
coming, for breakfast was ready, and we were quite ready 
for it. The fat landlady, with a face as blooming as a 
cabbage-rose, and full of bustling insignificance showed 
us into the dining-room. Fried ham and eggs, hot 
coffee and smoking potatoes, milk, honey, molasses, 
and pies, with a dish of pork and beans in the center, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 447 

presented a repast which I thought good enough for 
a king. 

Attached to our party was a merchant from one of 
the county towns of Kentucky, who thought himself 
quite fine, with his dingy shirt-ruffles sticking out fully 
an eighth of a yard, his glittering breast-pin, monstrous 
seal-ring, and flashy gold watch-chain. Patronizingly 
surveying the landlady, he said, in the blandest tone, 
after drinking his first cup of coffee : 

"Madam, where are the milk?" 

"There it are, sir," said she, pointing to a stone 
pitcher with her fat finger. 

A suppressed titter from the girls was silenced by a 
look from Mr. Tevis, but their gravity was again upset by: 

"Miss, them are molasses, if you please. Is them 
home-made, Ma'am?" 

"Yes, sir; and I can ricommend them as being 
sweeter and better than any of yer furrin 'lasses; clearer, 
sure, than any of yer Muscavaders. " 

This was too much for the girls, and their efforts to 
suppress their merriment forced them to leave the table 
with but half-satisfied appetites. 

As there was no prospect of the cold's abating, we 
hired from the landlady several blankets, to be returned 
by the stage-driver. At noon we stopped at a house on 
the roadside, if haply we might procure something to 
eat — not having been wise enough to bring with us a 
lunch. It was a dreary-looking place, not a living being 
to be seen, though the driver assured us it was inhabited. 
The door was opened by a little boy about ten years of 
age. Two or three children were parching corn in a 
skillet placed on the hearth, in which they were so 
much interested that they did not raise their eyes to 



448 Julia A. Tevis. 

look at us. The boy was sprightly, and showed not the 
least timidity. 

"Can 't you give us something to eat, my son?" 

"We ain't got any thing for ourselves," said he, "but 
this parched corn." 

"Where are your father and mother?" 

"Daddy 's gone to Jackson, and mammy 's gone to 
mill." 

There was not a particle of furniture in the room 
except a few old chairs, two or three stools, and a stout 
deal table, upon which stood a barrel with a convenient 
stop - cock. 

"What 's in that barrel? Cider?" 

"No, that's prime old whisky. We sells tavern here. 
Want a dram?" 

Suiting the action to the words he seized a tin-cup 
and was about to draw the liquor. "Stop! stop!" said 
Mr. Tevis, "we do not want any, and you must never 
drink it yourself." The gentleman gave a few small 
pieces of silver to the children, and after being well 
warmed we left. 

Just as twilight was deepening into darkness, we 
reached the town of Jackson, and were driven up to the 
door of the tavern kept by our driver, who was also stage 
contractor and mail carrier — a thrifty man, who turned 
every thing to his own advantage, and who would do 
any thing within the bounds of honesty "for a consid- 
eration." We all rushed into the reception-room, and 
were soon comfortably seated around the hottest fire I 
ever saw. We left the frigid zone out of doors, but 
found midsummer in the house. Logs of wood were 
heaped up nearly to the arch of the fire-place — the 
interstices filled with great lumps of coal. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 449 

Mr. Tevis had traveled through that region as an 
itinerant preacher long years before, and as he under- 
stood there was to be preaching in the Methodist Church, 
a quarterly-meeting being in progress, immediately after 
supper he went to Church, and there met many of his 
old friends, and, at their earnest request, preached for 
them. They urged him to remain several days in this 
cozy little town, which, to our great regret, he was 
obliged to decline doing. 

The night spent in Jackson was one to be remem- 
bered. When introduced into our sleeping apartment I 
was amazed to find no covering on the bed. The naked 
tick presented itself to my eyes without the slight relief 
of even a calico spread. 

"What!" said I, "do you intend for us to sleep 
without a cover?" 

"Oh, no," replied the attendant, and raising up the 
corner of the bed-tick, showed beneath it thick, warm 
blankets, white and unsullied as newly fallen snow. 

The feather-bed was the outside covering. This little 
woman had come from the "Father-land." That night 
was one of dreamless rest. 

Early the next morning we were en route for Chilli- 
cothe — a merry coach full of rested travelers, not a sour- 
visaged dyspeptic among us. We had learned one lesson 
never to be forgotten — in all conceivable circumstances it 
is good policy physically, morally, and religiously to be 
cheerful; yea, merry, in the sense that Solomon uses the 
word, "A merry heart doeth good like medicine." Dis- 
content gains nothing for soul or body. Cheerfulness is 
in keeping with the true spirit of Christianity. 

We hailed with delight the first glimpse of Chilli- 
cothe which we reached before sunset. Sliding over the 



45 o Julia A. Tevis. 

frozen streets, we were put down at the excellent hotel 
of Mr. Medeira. We were not sorry to learn, upon 
inquiry, that every seat in the stage was engaged as far 
as Wheeling for days to come, and that we should thus 
have time for rest and recreation. 

Chillicothe is beautifully situated, and makes a pleasing 
impression upon strangers. We were there under what 
might be considered unfavorable circumstances. The 
trees stretched forth their leafless arms towards a murky 
sky — icy Winter had scattered all their Summer glories, 
not a leaf or a bud to be seen. Yet there were pretty 
buildings, neatly inclosed yards, clean streets regularly 
laid out, and, best of all, the spirit of kindness reigned 
pre eminent among the citizens. Our excellent host and 
hostess, ever on "hospitable thoughts intent," made 
every thing subservient to the comfort of their guests. 

After a few days we were again on our way, not 
rejoicing but with fear and trembling, lest we should 
have our necks broken. The weather was so bitterly 
cold the stage-drivers were as savage and as surly as 
polar bears. Poor fellows, I could not help pitying them, 
though they were so awfully wicked. For many, many 
years I had not heard an oath, and these men swore so 
constantly and so horribly, that I was actually afraid of 
them, and felt that it was almost wrong for us to travel 
under such guidance. Meantime we moved on rapidly 
day and night, always finding some tolerable refreshments 
at the post-houses, until we reached Wheeling, where we 
rested and slept in a bed for the first time after leaving 
Chillicothe. 

We had rather a pleasant trip through Pennsylvania, 
and reached Philadelphia after an absence of three weeks 
from home. The cordiality of our reception by friends 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 451 

and relatives, and the luxury of feeling that we had no 
more difficulties to encounter, fully compensated for what 
we had endured. Strangers have often complained of a 
certain reserve and formality in the Philadelphians, which 
I failed to discover, either during this or subsequent 
visits. On the contrary, I think the permanently settled 
inhabitants of the city possess, in an eminent degree, the 
qualities essential to friendship and genuine politeness. 

It is a great mistake to suppose that hospitality con- 
sists in giving sumptuous feasts. In the dress, manners, 
habits, accomplishments, and learning of these people — 
indeed, in every sphere and department of life, public 
and private, was seen the pervading, beautiful, and honest 
simplicity which characterizes the "Friends." And, cer- 
tainly, the spirit and principles inculcated by William 
Penn were eminently calculated to diffuse harmony and 
order, to systematize society, and to promote tranquillity. 
I have been in Philadelphia frequently, but have never 
lost the agreeable impressions first received. 

The spirit of its illustrious founder is visible in all the 
institutions of this noble city. Homes for the destitute, 
house of refuge for the outcast, hospitals for the sick, 
and benevolent societies in every direction proclaim the 
golden rule of brotherly love. Charming parks and open 
squares refresh the heart and delight the eye in various 
parts of the city. These are free to all classes. Here 
the weary foot may rest and the sorrowing soul forget, 
for a while, the heat and hurry of existence. Here, in 
Summer, the song birds hold their jubilee, and the fra- 
grance of flowers floats on every breeze. Here, amid 
the laughter of gay and happy children, which comes 
like sweet music to the listening heart, persons may be 
seen sitting quietly under the shade trees, reading or 



452 Julia A. Tevis. 

watching the shifting scenes of loveliness by which they 
are surrounded. I have often wished that our beloved 
city of Louisville were so blessed with breathing lungs 
for her many and heart-burdened population. 

The days flew by as on the wings of the wind — each 
full of interest, instruction, and enjoyment. Teachers 
should travel occasionally, brush off the dust of the 
school-room, and see something beyond the precincts of 
its limited sphere. Rational, sensible travel corrects false 
impressions, enlarges our views, and increases our knowl- 
edge. The mind needs relaxation after months of con- 
stant exertion. The bow must be unbent now and then, 
or it will snap asunder. Many selfishly seek recreation 
without having earned it — these seldom find it equal 
to their expectations. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 453 



Chapter XXXVIII. 

In the, garland of love and memory woven about this 
period, is a flower of surpassing loveliness. So nat- 
ural and without disguise was the character of Susan 
W. Henning — so child-like her innocence, and so sweet 
her timidity, allied to a tone of pervading cheerfulness, 
that the girls sought her companionship. 

"Her speech and gesture, form and grace, 
Showed she was born of gentle race." 

Yet every thought of practiced effect or haughty preten- 
sion was foreign to her nature. Possessed of natural 
talent and that pure good sense which originates in fine 
feeling, she was, from her first entrance into school, a 
perfect type of girlish loveliness. Obedience to rules, 
accuracy and clearness of recitation, the correct style of 
her written thoughts, combined with a propriety of de- 
meanor which no ill example could overcome, rendered 
her a model pupil. Her countenance wore a beautiful 
expression, and in her clear, truthtful eyes was mirrored 
an elevated soul. 

She was married young to one every way worthy of 
such a prize. Edward Hobbs won, even in his early 
manhood, the respect and esteem of all who knew him; 
a character which has not only been maintained, but has 
brightened and widened into an earnest goodness that 
renders him an acknowledged benefactor. 

For many years we kept up the custom of crowning 
a "Rose Queen" in May, and enjoying a holiday in the 



454 Julia A. Tevis. 

woods. Happily for the girls, I greeted the return of 
the festal day with a gladness almost equal to theirs, for 
I retained enough of the freshness of youth in my heart 
to enable me to participate with zest in the joys of 
childhood. 

"Once upon a time," after a long severe Winter, 
followed by a Spring of unusual beauty, it was deter- 
mined to celebrate the day with great rejoicings. The 
girls were wild with delight at the prospect of a whole 
day's release from slates, books, and blackboards — a 
charming episode in the drudgery of their every-day life. 
Ah, happy children! to whom every glimpse of nature is 
beautiful, and every blade of grass a marvel! Give them 
ever so small a bit of green meadow checkered with sun- 
shine and shade upon which to revel among buttercups 
and daisies, and "little they'll reck" how the world 
goes on. 

There was but little opportunity for canvassing or 
intrigue in the election of Queen. Fanny Henning was 
chosen by acclamation as best fitted to grace the regal 
authority. Fanny possessed a mind and a character as 
transparent as a clear brook. Her ingenuous face, her 
self-forgetting and amiable bearing towards her compan- 
ions made her the loved and cherished of them all. She 
also held a distinguished place in the estimation of her 
teachers for superior excellence, dutiful affection, and 
modest deportment. Thus it was universally conceded 
that "Fair-handed Spring" might well resign to Fanny 
her sovereignty for one day over the brilliant treasures 
of garden, glade, and forest, awakened into life and 
brightened into beauty by her magic wand. 

The rosy hours followed each other in quick succes- 
sion until within a few days of the anticipated time, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 455 

when lo! the "queen elect" broke out with measles. 
The whole school was filled with dismay, bitter tears of 
disappointment were shed by some; others predicted 
that she would be well enough to go through the cere- 
mony. Fanny, uniting in their hopeful aspirations, pre- 
pared her coronation speech and rehearsed it to perfec- 
tion, for, though confined to her room, she was not 
really ill. On the eve of the appointed day, however, 
the doctor pronounced her too feeble to endure the 
fatigue. What was to be done? The trophies of many 
loyal hearts were ready to be laid at the feet of the 
queen. Spirit hands seemed dispensing blessings, and 
guardian angels extending their wings over these health- 
ful, happy girls as they diligently wrought sparkling 
wreaths and arranged beautiful bouquets. 

The banners were prepared, the white dresses were 
trimmed with evergreen. The Seasons, the maids of 
honor, and all the officials were in waiting, but "Hamlet 
could not be left out of the play. One modest little girl, 
after listening in silence to the suggestions of the others, 
raised her eyes to my face and said hesitatingly: 

"Can't Emma Maxwell be queen in Fanny's place?" 

"Oh, no!" said another; "she could not possibly 
learn the speech in time." 

"No, indeed!" exclaimed several voices at once, "that 
would be impossible; but she might read it." 

"Yes, yes! let her read it; the queen's speeches are 
read in Parliament!" 

"Will you accept the proposition?" said I, turning 
to Emma. 

"I think I can learn it," she replied, "and will try if 
you wish it." 

The coronation was to take place the next morning at 



45 6 Julia A. Tevis. 

ten o'clock. A previous rehearsal would be impossible; 
but what Emma proudly determined to do was gener- 
ally accomplished. 

The evening star looked out bright and clear in the 
blue deep, thrilling the hearts of these young girls with 
the prospect of a pleasant morrow. 

Most of them were stirring before sunrise. "Is. it 
clear?" "Are we going?" And from every room issued 
the sound of cheerful voices; and then such shouts, such 
hurrying and bathing and dressing as was seldom known 
before. 

Ten o'clock came, and the yard, where the temporary 
throne was erected, was soon filled with spectators and 
invited guests, mingling with the children and partic- 
ipating in their pleasure. The proxy queen bore her 
blushing honors meekly, going through all the coronation 
ceremonies with a charming dignity. She stood Calypso- 
like among her train of attendants in full view of the 
audience who listened in breathless silence to her ad- 
dress. I watched her closely ; she seemed to plant her 
feet firmly, as if to still the beatings of her heart; no 
gesture except a gentle motion of the right arm as she 
swayed her scepter majestically around, her eyes steadily 
fixed upon some object beyond, with which she seemed 
completely absorbed. Not a word was misplaced, not a 
sentence omitted, of a speech long enough for a Parlia- 
mentary harangue. No one prompted, nor did she once 
turn her eyes towards the scroll she held in her left-hand. 
Enthusiastic and excessive were the rejoicings of her 
juvenile auditors. 

Fanny witnessed the whole ceremony through a con- 
venient window which framed for her a living picture of 
ineffable beauty, and on this clear day, with only a few 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 457 

white Spring clouds floating over the bluest of skies, it 
was a sight of earth that makes one understand heaven. 

The Seasons followed in quick succession, proffering 
homage to the queen; then came the "rosy Hours" with 
their sweet-toned voices, and the ceremony was completed 
by a few words from "Fashion and Modesty," the latter 
gently pushing the former aside, and casting a veil over 
the burning blushes of the queen. The address being 
finished, queen and attendants walked in procession to a 
grove that skirted the town, where beauty filled the eye, 
and singing birds warbled sweet music. When tired of 
play, a more substantial entertainment was provided. 
Group after group spread the white cloth on the soft 
green turf, and surrounded the plentiful repast, gratefully 
acknowledging the Hand that supplies our wants from 
day to day. He who called our attention to the "lilies 
of the field," stamps a warrant of sacredness upon our 
rejoicings, in all that he has made. 

There was something very remarkable in the quickness 
and facility with which Emma Maxwell memorized the 
queen's speech. She was a girl of more than ordinary 
vivacity, of a highly imaginative, impressionable nature, 
and seemed to have the gift of bewitching all who knew 
her. She occupied a commanding position in her class as 
a good reciter, but I had not hitherto noticed any great 
facility in memorizing. I called her the next day, and 
asked her to recite the piece to me alone. She stared 
rather vacantly at me, and said : 

"I can not remember a sentence of it." 

"What! when you repeated it with so much facility 
yesterday! Explain yourself." 

"I do not know how it is," she replied, "that though 
I can learn with the utmost precision, mechanically, 



45 8 Julia A. Tevis. 

whatever I choose, in a short time, yet under such cir- 
cumstances my memory has not the power of retention. 
If my train of repetition had been interrupted for one 
moment yesterday, I should have failed utterly." 

"What were you looking at so intently the whole 
time?" 

"I was looking at certain objects about the yard and 
house, in connection with which I had studied the speech 
the evening before." 

' ' Yes ; but you certainly can repeat some portion of 
it to me?" 

"Not one sentence connectedly; it has all passed from 
my mind like a shadow on the wall." 

Yet she was a girl of good judgment, read much, 
talked well, and possessed in an eminent degree the 
indispensable requisite of a good memory — power of 
attention. 

The unfolding drama of my school life introduces an- 
other May Queen of more than ordinary interest as 
connected with so many pleasant remembrances, a gem 
in my heart's casket, that still gleams with a steady lus- 
ter. Margaret Thorpe bore for many years an intimate 
relation to Science Hill, first as a pupil, then as a 
teacher, — her never-tiring mind going on from strength 
to strength until she stood firmly on the platform, a suc- 
cessful teacher. If I may claim credit for the results 
reached in the education of this estimable person, I 
flatter myself that I should have in that fact an enduring 
monument of the value of my efforts. 

Mary Hamilton bore the sobriquet of "Lexington," 
her place of residence, to distinguish her from another 
of the same name. Her name is embalmed among the 
most pleasant memories of Science Hill. Her cheerful 



Sixty- Years in a School-room. 459 

smile and cordial "Good-morning," the introduction to 
her well-learned lesson, rendered her particularly agreea- 
ble in the class-room, — a sweet young girl, gentle and 
timid as a fawn, her dove-like eyes half-veiled by silken 
lashes, with the form of a sylph and the foot of a fairy, 
yet possessing firmness of purpose and energy of mind, 
combined with perfect self-reliance. She was neat, good, 
and industrious, and I do not remember that it was ever 
necessary to chide, reprove, or punish her while a mem- 
ber of our school. 

"How sweet the recollection of such girls," forming 
precious bouquets, redolent with "rosemary for remem- 
brance and pansies for thought," in which the purity of 
the lily is combined with the softest bloom of the rose! 
'T is like the perfume of sweet violets, floating around 
the senses in a dream of beauty. 

Many a region of still life is illustrated with unosten- 
tatious goodness. The great virtues do not blaze forth 
to the admiration of the public eye, — they often pass 
away, altogether unknown and unacknowledged beyond 
their own neighborhood till s ome stray gold-dust floats 
down before the eye, and guides it to a mine of moral 
wealth and worth. 



460 - Julia A. Tevis. 



Chapter XXXIX. 

When I first commenced teaching, want of experi- 
ence, and a great desire to be faithful in the 
performance of my duties, made me confine my pupils 
too many hours to the dull routine of books. Neither 
did I spare myself; my mind wanted discipline, and thus 
its work was never done. I could not dismiss my cares 
and annoyances when I dismissed my school. Not only 
my daily thoughts, but my nightly dreams, were of the 
school-room and the peculiar emergencies of my position. 
Exhaustion, weariness, and anxiety, combined with that 
constant vigilance necessarily emanating from the central 
authority to the continually extending circumference of a 
large school, more than once brought me to the verge 
of the grave. 

The academical year of 1839 closed without any defi- 
nite prospect of reopening the school; if ever, again 
under my superintendence. Just here let me give the 
result of my experience, in the sure conviction that six 
hours daily devoted to the work of teaching and con- 
trolling a school is quite as much as either teacher or 
pupil can bear without detriment to bodily health and 
that general intellectual progress which is the end and 
aim of instruction; and even this could not be borne 
without that change of employment which sometimes 
takes the place of recreation. 

My conscientiousness permitted too little relaxation, 
and the school up to this period was, as a friend expressed 



Sixty Years in a School-room. '461 

it, a "perfect flint-mill." Under the gloomy prospect 
just referred to our first catalogue was published, — a 
diminutive pamphlet of six pages, closing with a few 
remarks, and promising that in due time the opening of 
the next term should be made known to the public. 

Traveling had benefited me under like circumstances. 
Physicians and friends decided that I must go and leave 
all perplexing cares behind me. My longing heart turned 
towards the mountains of Virginia, and thither we went. 
My health improved daily after reaching those elevated 
regions around which floats an atmosphere pure as ether, 
and youth and strength seemed "renewed like the 
eagles." I drank in new life from every surrounding. 
The old - fashioned coach was filled with cheerful, happy 
passengers, and as we wended our way leisurely onward 
over lofty mountains, "with their silent shades and arbors 
darkly wreathed," a fountain of enjoyment was unsealed, 
whence flowed an exhilarating current, sparkling as nectar. 
The soul is like a harp, with capabilities for plaintive, 
joyous, or solemn music; and when beauty, with its 
train, sweeps over it, it murmurs a response, chanting, 
like the choristers of old, praises to Him who fashioned 
the heavens with their glory and the earth with its beauty. 

After a few weeks of travel and delightful sojourning 
among friends and relatives, we were home again, with 
renewed health and strength. "The Lord had been with 
us and kept us by the way," and with grateful hearts we 
earnestly prayed that henceforth our united lives might 
be a continued hymn of praise to our Heavenly Father. 

Again the school opened under prosperous circum- 
stances, and, having been successful in securing able 
and competent teachers, my own cares were lessened, 

and obstacles vanished like the airy fabric of a dream. 

3° 



462 Julia A. Tevis. 

A well-established institution of learning, with an 
uublemished reputation, and extensively known, can never 
die if God's blessing rest upon it. Languish it may 
occasionally, — ephemeral schools may spring up with a 
mushroom growth, only to perish after the lapse of a few 
years. A good school must be permanent, and will be 
sustained in spite of the fickleness of popular favor ; but 
the great fault with many teachers is want of patience 
with the order of nature, — they can not wait for the 
changes. Time is requisite for the accomplishment of 
any great work, and many failures are attributable to that 
feverish impatience which characterizes some worthy 
enterprise. Much is due, under Providence, in the suc- 
cess of this school, to the unwearied perseverance of 
both teachers and pupils. Multitudes are only half ed- 
ucated for want of patience and perseverance to pursue a 
course, the chief difficulties of which they have already 
overcome. Patience under great discouragements is an 
attribute of exalted characters, and one of the essential 
conditions of success in all the chief pursuits in life. 

I have learned to know, by long experience, that "it 
is the twig, the tender shoot, which is bent, and not the 
full-grown tree," and I have also learned another fact, 
which seems in our "fast age" unknown or unrecognized 
by many, and that is that in four years a complete 
college course, embracing all the sciences and many of 
the languages, can not possibly be accomplished. Schol- 
ars, who at the age of "sweet sixteen" are deficient in 
spelling, deficient in the pronunciation of their own lan- 
guage, and incapable of writing a letter grammatically, 
and without being able to bound the United States or to 
name the principal cities in the Union ! Think you such, 
or even those more advanced in an English course, could 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 463 

acquire even in a dozen years what is professed to be 
taught in many of our most distinguished female colleges 
in a four years' course? that which would fit them for 
statesmen, doctors, lawyers, or any other position in pub- 
lic life? The absurdity is palpable. 

Thus I have never proposed a full collegiate course for 
my pupils, and I glory in the old-fashioned name of 
"Academy," which I think includes a full requisition 
of all that is necessary to make an elegant, cultivated, 
refined woman for society, and fit her for the higher 
duties of home life, — like Cornelia, displaying her jewels 
around the fireside, and fitting them not only for the 
outer world of to-day, but to send rays of light through 
ages to come. 

When will we learn this truth, that women should be 
the best economists of time and best fitted to dispense 
those blessings of home life which are given to us through 
them by our Heavenly Father? Some blessings are 
bestowed upon us in clusters like the fruits of the vine; 
but time, the golden elixir of life, is poured upon us drop 
by drop, minute by minute, one is gone before another 
is bestowed. 

In the administration of an institution so large as 
ours promised to be from the beginning of 1840, so varied 
in its departments of learning and arduous and unremit- 
ting in its duties, it was found necessary to make some 
changes and improvements for its future success. This 
was promptly attended to and its onward course was 
marked by uninterrupted prosperity. A thousand recol- 
lections crowd upon my mind as memory retraces the 
scenes of my pathway dating from the re-opening of my 
school in 1840, so that I am bewildered as to choice. 
My work would be too voluminous, and time would fail me. 



464 Julia A. Tevis. 

My cares and sorrows, troubles and perplexities are 
forgotten as I gaze on the number of interesting young 
girls passing in review. Some have gone home after 
having finished their work on earth, leaving the assurance 
of a blessed immortality, "where their works do follow 
them;" others still live to show the good effects of a 
well-cultivated mind, and to preside with wisdom and 
dignity in well-ordered homes, and to show forth by their 
example how beautifully a moral and religious education 
affects the soul. It is a well-known fact that true piety 
and virtue shine with double luster when the intellectual 
faculties are well cultivated. 

While many a lovely vision has passed away, and 
many a sacred record shines but in the moonlight of 
memory ; yet few, very few of the pictures in the gallery 
of my school life have been obliterated, and often now, 
in the twilight of life's evening, the magic touch of some 
connecting link brings up before me form after form, 
with the intensity of a life-like presence. O beautiful 
memory ! How delightful to build our recollections upon 
some basis of reality — a lovely face, an interesting scene, 
a beautiful country, a local habitation! How the events 
of life and its thrilling scenes vibrate through our very 
being! We look back upon the well-remembered family 
group with its rays of golden sunshine lighting up the 
happy faces; we see, too, before us here and there, dim 
and silent places always shaded with darker hues to us — 
where sorrowful remembrance weeps forevermore, and 
from whence arises a resurrection light which mingles 
with the full blaze of an eternal day. 

The constitution of every good school is an absolute 
monarchy, but under the control of moral principle which 
must be the guiding power, as far as possible, in the 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 465 

government of its subjects. The more tenderly the feel- 
ings of the young are handled the more sensitive they 
will become; the mildest reproof given to a timid girl in 
the hearing of her companions, is often a punishment 
greater than she can bear. Rough treatment is calculated 
to harden and stupefy some who might be saved by a 
different course. A public exposure may so destroy the 
sensitiveness as to render the subject of such treatment 
impervious to admonition or reproof. 

The superiority of a teacher does not consist in making 
her pupils fear and tremble, but rather in securing their 
own self-respect and making them feel that the end 
of good government is to promote their comfort and 
improvement. An effectual way to insure the good will 
of pupils is to keep them interested in their studies. No 
drones should ever be tolerated. Idleness at any period 
of life is dangerous to virtue, but more to be dreaded in 
youth than at any other season ; therefore, never let a 
school-girl have time to count the flies on the wall of her 
study-room or gaze at surrounding objects. Keep the 
mental powers active and awake, and never allow them to 
be without a sufficient sphere of operation within the 
limits of their capacity, else they will become headstrong, 
fickle, vain, self-sufficient, averse to consideration, intent 
upon the present moment, regardless of the future, for- 
getful of the past, and fit subjects for temptation. 

Some teachers in striving to impress their pupils with 
their own infallibility by professing to know every thing, 
lose that confidence which they are striving to secure. 
Let children know that it is not universal acquisition, but 
a well-balanced mind and fixed principles of action and 
systematic habits that distinctly mark the boundary 
between knowledge and ignorance. 



466 Julia A. Tevis. 

A well-organized and well-governed school greatly 
diminishes the trouble of teaching. Cheerfulness, order, 
industry, and propriety of conduct are essential to the 
highest interests of the school. No disorder of books or 
desks, no leaving seats without liberty, no communi- 
cations either by whispering or otherwise, except by 
express permission of the presiding teacher, should be 
the inviolable law of the study-room. 

I have said there must be but one supreme controlling 
head in every school, thus preventing jealousy among 
teachers and insubordination among pupils. But in a 
large school, where there are several teachers, each 
should be the supreme ruler in his or her department ; 
there should be no appeal to the principal except for 
consultation. A meeting of the teachers is desirable 
now and then to compare notes. A perfect unanimity 
should exist; one single jarring string destroys the 
harmony and clogs the onward progress of the pupils. 

Children love to work, and nothing charms them more 
than to be made to feel their importance. I have often 
endeared a young girl to me by asking her assistance, 
and many an idle one have I made industrious by finding 
her something to do for others, when she was unwill- 
ing to work for herself. A personal attachment of the 
warmest kind may thus be awakened between teacher 
and pupil. We must be careful, however, while asking 
the assistance of some and showing an honest gratifica- 
tion for the assistance rendered, not to awaken the 
jealousy of others. I have seen the happiest results 
attending judicious measures of this kind. The time is 
well spent, even if the regular course of study be inter- 
rupted, when we can induce our pupils to act in concert 
with us, and make them feel how much pleasanter it is to 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 467 

co-operate than to thwart and oppose; yet whenever 
reproof or correction is necessary, the teacher must be 
a throned monarch; look on the favorable side as far as 
is consistent with duty, but be ever ready with an efficient 
hand to arrest evil. 

I have had very many excellent assistant teachers of 
both sexes, superior in tact and successful in their voca- 
tion, yet I do not hesitate to give it as my decided opinion 
that women are the best, the most patient, and the most 
successful teachers save, perhaps, in the higher and more 
abstruse sciences, which belong to the learned profes- 
sions. They are certainly better fitted to govern a female 
school. 

Several are now passing in review before me, each 
possessing those excellent qualities and high credentials 
that fitted her for the lot assigned her by Providence — a 
model of patient industry and untiring interest in her 
vocation. One I must detain as an example of all a 
teacher should be; she rises in queenly dignity, pre- 
eminently successful in her vocation, upon which she 
entered in the morning of life. Thoroughly educated 
and intelligent, she rapidly acquired those qualifications 
that fitted her peculiarly for this delicate and elevated 
position, which she continued to occupy. Like the 
Roman emperor she considered a day lost in which some 
good was not done or acquired. Her personal appear- 
ance prepossessing in the highest degree, with a voice 
low and sweet, yet clear and distinct; manners dignified 
and reserved, though never cold nor repellent, she 
impressed favorably upon first sight, and never failed 
to insure esteem and confidence upon more intimate 
acquaintance. 

A magical reformation was produced by her connec- 



468 Julia A. Tevis. 

tion with our school, particularly in the department 
where she presided, system and order followed her foot- 
steps as naturally as flowers rise up under the elastic 
tread of Spring. I have never known this lady teacher 
to use harsh language or reproachful epithets. She 
proceeds cautiously and tenderly, but with an air of 
uncompromising authority and power. When reproof is 
necessary and forbearance no longer a virtue, her tone 
and manner become those of a judge — decisive, not 
persuasive. 

Faithful teachers will never be satisfied simply to 
hear recitations, to keep the order of the classes, and to 
impress the contents of text-books. These are parts of 
their vocation, but with a solemn sense of the worth 
of immortal souls they will strive to provide their pupils 
with moral and religious, as well as intellectual, work- 
habits, principles, and affections that make life beautiful 
and death a messenger of peace. 

If it be true that memory is but little more than 
fixed attention, the faculty of attention should be culti- 
vated from the dawn of reason as the key to knowledge. 
Children should be taught that it is morally wrong to 
forget what they are expected to remember. It is 
inexcusable in a student to utter the phrase, "I have 
forgotten," without sorrow and a fixed resolution to 
prevent its recurrence if possible. 

Great care will be taken by a good teacher to cultivate 
the powers of expression and correct pronunciation. A 
bungling, unintelligible answer should never be received. 
Under no circumstances ought we to accept the common 
excuse, "I know, but can not tell," for if any one knows 
he can tell it — and tell it just as well as he knows it. 
An instructor who has the tact to awaken interest and 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 469 

inspire a class with enthusiasm by a lively and interesting 
style of teaching is a blessing to the school-room. If 
wanting in the ability to do this, he is mistaken in his 
calling and should seek another occupation. 

Prompting should be considered as a punishable 
offense. In the first place it prevents that moral courage 
and independence which gives a pupil self-respect; it 
encourages idleness and, worse than all, the habit of 
deception. Recitations should always be mingled with 
explanations. I never could confine myself to a text- 
book, and, with my advanced pupils, have been in the 
constant habit of reading selections from standard authors, 
ancient and modern. 

Next to reading and orthography comes a clear and 
beautiful penmanship — graceful and easy to be read. 
Too much attention can not be given to these. My own 
handwriting is remarkably distinct, clear, and smooth 
even at the age of sixty-eight. This is due, not only to 
early and constant attention, but to the fact of having 
been obliged to copy much for others. I was the aman- 
uensis of my father from the age of twelve to twenty. 

What is the best method of teaching the art of com- 
position? This question has frequently been asked, and 
many have expressed the decided opinion that it is best 
not to attempt the carrying out of any particular rules, 
leaving circumstances to direct. This is equivalent to 
letting it alone altogether. 

After trying various methods suggested by my own 
experience, I long ago settled upon the plan of requiring 
original specimens from the hands of even the youngest 
writers, no matter how simple in form and expression. 
Do not look for faults to correct. Little inaccuracies, at 
first, must be passed over; this gives confidence to young 



47° Julia A. Tevis. 

composers. Encourage them to tell the first things they 
can remember, to relate whatever made an impression on 
the mind when young. Pass over all that you may with 
propriety. Do not criticise their feeble efforts before the 
class, where all compositions must be read by the com- 
poser, or you will check the free growth of thought and 
the increased power of expression. Such indulgence 
takes away all excuse from even the least informed. The 
most timid girl may be prevailed upon to write some 
little anecdote of her own life, and that which at first 
seems so unconquerable and difficult becomes a source 
of interest and amusement. After these compositions 
have been read before the class, correct them privately 
with the writer, pointing out the false orthography, 
ungrammatical expressions, and other errors. I have 
been surprised at the increased facility acquired by this 
judicious management. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 471 



Chapter XL. 

Many a bright young face rises before me connected 
with these happy, busy days; now and then one 
calls for something more than a passing glance. 

A fair-faced child with a profusion of rich, auburn 
hair, than whom none has made a deeper impression 
upon my heart, came to me from Clarke County, the 
land of my birth. School life was rendered pleasant to 
this little lassie by the cultivation of kind affections to- 
ward her school-mates and respectful obedience to her 
teachers. With a step light and springy, a ready dispo- 
sition to oblige and always merry-hearted, she soon be- 
came a prime favorite. 

When Amanda first entered school, she was particu- 
larly pleased with her own performance on the piano, 
and never lost an opportunity of displaying her acquire- 
ments. Her laughter-loving companions, infinitely amused 
at her childish vanity, would frequently smuggle her away 
into a retired music-room, and, while she played, would 
loudly applaud. This continued to delight the little girl 
immensely, until she discovered, upon one occasion, that 
they were amusing themselves at her expense. She 
darted off, and no persuasions could ever again prevail 
upon her to play for them, and indeed it made her reluc- 
tant for a long time to touch the piano at all. 

Among her most pleasing and attractive qualities was 
her power of lively description. Possessing a wonderful 
memory, she never forgot persons, places, or things. 



47 2 Julia A. Tevis. 

Thus her mind was stored with pleasing incidents and 
amusing ancecdotes, rendering her an agreeable compan- 
ion at home and abroad. 

Why is it that many "would-be favorites" are slow 
to learn that pleasant looks, affectionate words, and 
obliging deeds, not only render them lovely but beloved ? 
These characteristics, with their quiet, but infallible trac- 
ings, make the unfading pictures in life's book of beauty, 
which diffuse over the whole countenance a coloring of 
inexpressible loveliness, and, even in extreme old age, 
are the last remembrances that time effaces from the 
mind. 

Mere personal attractions are nothing compared with 
that soul-beauty beaming forth even in childhood, like 
the flashing rays of the uncut diamond. I learned to love 
this little maiden very dearly. Often when wearied with 
the bustling perplexities of school she was the privileged 
one who glided into my room, and, with her smiling face 
and gentle, prattling voice, soothed the throbbings of my 
restless heart. 

This child of brilliant promise did not disappoint the 
hopes of teacher and friends. She grew up an elegant 
woman, as remarkable for wit and refinement of manners 
as for her Christian graces — bearing no obscure handwrit- 
ing on lip or brow. 

Children may be denominated creatures of imitation, 
and upon this instinctive faculty more depends in the 
formation of habits and character throughout the whole 
course of life than upon almost any other. Conscience 
must be enlightened and settled on proper authority; it 
must be corrected and strengthened, and rendered quite 
unbending to every influence and temptation from the 
association of company, passion, or interest. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 473 

Young imaginations are so easily wrought upon, that 
not only pernicious books and unhealthy literature should 
be carefully eschewed, but the associations promptly and 
constantly attended to. The good or bad influences to 
which girls may be subjected tell for weal or woe upon 
their future. Of all the unnumbered mercies of Provi- 
dence, none are greater, or more affecting in the recollec- 
tion, than those which I received ere yet a light from 
above shone into my heart. In the peculiar gift of com- 
panionship I was often preserved from imprudence by the 
warning admonition of a judicious friend. Minervas are 
sometimes found among school-girls, and we should be 
assiduously anxious, as well to secure their healthy com- 
panionship, as to prevent those intimacies. which selfishly 
ignore but the favored one — maintaining like the Jewish 
rabbi, "if there are but two wise persons in the world, 
my son and I are the two." 

Suffer two silly, indiscreet girls to become intimate, 
and they will be icebergs to the rest of the school. They 
must sit side by side in the study room, in juxtaposition 
at the table, go arm in arm to Church, linger far behind 
the rest in walking, showing in every thing an exclus- 
iveness that becomes exceedingly offensive to others. 
Finally, an explosion takes place, and a multitude of 
others are set on fire by the revelation of sarcastic re- 
marks, aside communications, and betrayals of confidence. 

The opposite of this is found in the noble friendships 
of the large-hearted, who can love each other dearly and 
still be just to others. True as the needle to the pole, 
each may be the cynosure of the other, and yet shed an 
ever-beaming light upon all who come within the circle 
of her perpetual revolutions. The united aims of two 
such may be to promote the interest and happiness of 



474 Julia A. Tevis. 

others without impairing their inexpressible tenderness 
and devotion to each other. 

There is nothing like school life — nothing that could 
take the place of its reminiscences. Other memories 
may fade, these brighten with the lapse of time, and even 
to the latest hour of life, amid the fondest scenes of rec- 
ollection a classmate's is still the most eloquent face to 
be casually encountered. Where do we find so great a 
variety presented as in the shifting panorama of its every- 
day life? The amiable and the peevish, the thoughtful 
and the reckless; the tender, so ready to receive impres- 
sions that scarcely a sound falls unheeded; and the obdu- 
rate, over whose conscience every admonition glides like 
raindrops from polished steel ; and again, trusting, suscep- 
tible spirits of whom a teacher loves to think as having 
been drawn out and beautifully developed under the 
myriad-handed genius of industry. 

Now softly gliding into view comes Barbara Thruston, 
with her quiet face, and "stature small but firmly knit." 
There was a serenity and composure of manner not com- 
mon in young girls which gave the impression of dignity, 
and rendered her prepossessing upon first acquaintance. 
A more intimate knowledge of her character showed that 
the neat little casket contained a gem that would amply 
repay the educator's care. 

There seemed a slight dash of haughtiness in the 
curve of her closed lips — a look of quiet decision and 
fixedness of purpose that made me fear there might be 
some trouble in bending her will to the strictness of our 
regulations. But this was only imaginary; she was re- 
ticent from sheer timidity, and though possessing firmness 
of purpose and strength of character, she never for a 
moment lost her serene repose of manner nor departed 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 475 

from that quiet demeanor which so well became her. 
Under the drooping lids of the young girl, there were 
soul-lit eyes sparkling with good humor, of which there 
was a rich store hid beneath the surface and appearing 
on all proper occasions; while an earnest desire for 
knowledge led her to love school, conform to its regula- 
tions, and respect her teachers. 

Many pleasant recollections are connected with Louis- 
ville, from whence I received much of my early patron- 
age. There are households in that city where cultivated 
taste, united with the more vigorous facilities of the 
understanding, governs and controls the family, and where 
now is found a presiding genius who once formed a part 
of the family circle of their school. 

Five daughters of our much esteemed and life-long 
friends, Mr. and Mrs. Samuel K. Richardson, were among 
my pupils. Four of them yet live, presiding over homes 
where the stranger and the friend can repose with de- 
light; one has gone to her celestial home, to reap the 
reward of a useful life. The oldest, and first that came 
to us, was lovely and beloved, and always exerted a 
happy influence over her companions. 

She is now a grandmother, and has beautifully fulfilled 
all the requisitions of a noble woman. Time has touched 
her so lightly as to leave only the graceful traces of 
maturer womanhood. 

Among the many friends and patrons of Science Hill 
Mr. David Thornton occupies a prominent place. This 
excellent man was a fountain head of social and religious 
life in the community in which he dwelt. Just in all his 
actions, faithful in all his words, he pursued the even 
tenor of his course, and, dying in the triumphs of a victo- 
rious faith, he left behind him the remembrance of his 



476 Julia A. Tevis. 

virtues and bequeathed to his children the inheritance of 
of an unstained name. 

Our well-beloved pupil, Hontas Thornton, his daughter, 
yet lives to exemplify the fact that a moral and religious 
training brightens the intellectual faculties and fits us for 
a higher state of existence. She was always cheerful, 
but never boisterous, and her sparking wit never degen- 
erated into asperity. She knew that human happiness is 
founded upon wisdom and virtue, and by these she 
seemed to be guided in all her aspirations. But "time 
would fail to me to tell of Gideon and of Barak and of 
Samson and of Jephthah, of David also and Samuel and 
of the prophets." 

As I do not pretend to write a regular, connected 
history, I shall certainly not challenge criticism by intro- 
ducing link after link of the family circle, as well as so 
many marked and characteristic illustrations of young 
persons figuring at different intervals as pupils in my 
school. 

My only living daughter, and the last but one of seven 
children, was in truth a great joy to the family circle. 
Cherished by a host of tender relatives, she learned even 
in babyhood to feel her importance. I prayed most 
earnestly that she might be permitted to live and "walk 
as an angel by my side" through life's journey. And 
though I trembled lest the cup of my earthly joy might 
overflow, I felt a sweet assurance that He who inspired 
the wish would grant the request. Submitting all to the 
divine will, I did not ask for riches, nor grandeur, nor 
beauty, nor fame, nor worldly position for this dear child, 
but I asked of the Lord that she might be good and 
useful in this world, and hereafter dwell with the saints 
in glory. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 477 

I began early to weave the net of education of fibers 
as fine as the gossamer, which were in time to become 
stronger than tempered steel, praying all the while that 
the light of a true Christian faith should irradiate her 
intellectual attainments, giving them a brighter luster. 

This newly opened page of life I contemplated with a 
pleasure that caused a flood-tide of affection to be poured 
upon the little girl, and filled my mind with a repose in 
the enjoyment of the present that shut out all fears for 
the future. She was impulsive. The simplicity and in- 
genuousness of her emotions were manifested in her 
expressive features with such transparency that her 
thoughts were known even before she was conscious of 
their existence. She was a happy child, enjoying the 
present and never speculating upon the future, living on 
from hour to hour amid the sweet surroundings of home 
life like a bird or a blossom, unconscious that darker 
days might ever come. 

I thought I could discover intellect in her glance — 
what mother does not? — even in early childhood. Her 
large, wide-open eyes brightened at every fresh object, 
and her desire to learn was exhibited in a curiosity to 
know and to understand. Her questions were always 
answered, and the warm and rapid thoughts of her soul 
were nurtured into life under the ardent solicitude and 
affectionate care of her instructors. An only daughter is 
generally the synonym for spoiled child. To prevent 
this she was under the strictest domestic control, and 
grew up under the same discipline as her school-fellows, 
being neither rocked in the cradle of indulgence nor fed 
on lilies. 

A constant effort was made to rear her in the nurture 

and admonition of the Lord. Belle had from childhood 

3i 



478 Julia A. Tevis. 

a ready flow of language, and knew, as if by instinct, 
\vhere to place the emphasis in her pathetic harangues 
for peace and pardon, after having violated, even with 
Solomon's injunctions before her eyes, any of those early 
taught habits of order, neatness, and obedience. 

My Heavenly Father, in his goodness, still spares 
her — a comfort to my declining years. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 479 



Chapter XLI. 

Days and months have slipped by almost impercepti- 
bly since I closed the preceding chapter, intending 
to finish my book with a concluding summary. I had not 
thought to defer it so long, but time passes quickly with 
us as we approach the evening of life. I remember when 
it was different. Had I been told the first twenty years 
of my life would seem the longest portion of it I should 
have doubted ; but now, when the evening comes, and 
the day's work is nearly over, it seems but a short space 
since I entered upon its duties and its responsibilities. 

January 8, 1870. Just fifty years ago I began my 
career as a teacher, and have continued with but little 
interruption, — no rest from duties save in the vacations. 

When the light of the sun grows dim upon my fading 
eyes, when the fountains of life are low, when the frosts 
of age descend upon my feeble frame, then through the 
halls of memory, like the "still, sweet strains of music 
far away," will come tender recollections of the happy 
throngs that have hearkened to my instructions. The 
grateful remembrance of those for whom I have patiently 
and zealously toiled casts a halo of light over life's de- 
cline, soothes the infirmities of age and kindles upon the 
altar of my heart a purer love for the human race. Each 
pupil, whom by advice or encouragement I prompted to 
nobler aims or urged to higher attainments, is a gem in 
my casket of more worth than the treasures of the deep 
blue sea. 



480 Julia A. Tevis. 

Twilight is deepening gradually about me; no evil 
bodings disturb the tranquillity of my closing days. My 
heart throws off link after link of this world's bondage, 
and the soul, losing its sternness and the keen excite- 
ments of a busy life, is becoming subdued as a child's. 

I can not forget my early dreamings and youth's 
cherished associations; they still come thronging back 
like sad angels, and my spirit reaches yearningly after 
the good and true whom I knew long ago. But I think 
more of the unseen world towards which I am so rapidly 
borne, and of the mysteries of eternity. 

Long years of toil and care have not weakened my 
interest in the advancement of science and the budding 
growth of mind. I have watched the dawning intellect, 
and rejoiced in the prospective usefulness, of thousands. 
I wish to impress as deeply as possible the result of 
my observations and experience upon those who will 
follow me. 

Teaching, when pursued with a strong conviction of 
the value of the immortal soul, becomes a high and holy 
work. The good begun on earth, the seed sown in its 
few fleeting years, will yield fruit divine in heaven. 
"They that sow in tears shall reap in joy," — and come 
up before the eternal throne rejoicing, bringing their 
sheaves with them. 

Notwithstanding the apparent monotony of a teacher's 
life, it is made up of varied and shifting scenes. A thou- 
sand nameless cares and perplexities sweep over us at 
times, quenching like a flood every ray of hope. Wearied 
with the more than thread-bare round of duties, and with 
the captious and incorrigible conduct of juvenile delin- 
quents, discouraged by the indifference or ingratitude of 
parents, we almost despair of accomplishing any good; 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 481 

and sometimes, weighed down by anxiety, exhausted by 
labor or depressed by indisposition, we would gladly fly 
from the school-room, never again to enter its confines. 
But this is the result of that occasional ennui to which 
the most devoted and eminent teachers are subject. 

These dark clouds of discouragement will presently 
be chased away by the sunlight of promise and joy, and 
leave us under an open sky of cheerfulness and serenity 
that "lets in blue banner-gleams of heaven." 

With a proper arrangement of duties and recreations 
a healthy tone of body and mind may be maintained, 
and the teacher live to possess and enjoy the fruits of his 
labor. The intervals of relaxation are enjoyed by him 
with a zest greater than is known in other conditions of 
life. When he goes forth from his dusty desks and per- 
plexing problems, the very trees seem to lift their verdant 
crowns and bend in salutation to him, and the flowers 
send sweet invisible messages to greet his delighted 
senses. The whole garb of nature seems dyed afresh in 
emerald tints, and the balmy gale breathes into his sin- 
ews new strength. There is a precious reward for him 
in the pure, untainted affection bestowed upon him by 
ingenuous hearts, unpracticed in the deceptive arts of 
maturer years. His young pupils come to greet him 
each morning with light hearts and bounding steps; the 
little grievances and asperities of yesterday's births are 
lost in the oblivion of the night's repose, and they come 
with faces radiant with kind regard and good intentions. 
The faithful instructor feels that he bears no unimportant 
part in the grand drama of human affairs. He is training 
the immortal mind, and even in some degree influencing 
the eternal destinies of the soul. 

The standard of scholarship for girls is undoubtedly 



482 Julia A. Tevis. 

much higher in this country to-day than it was fifty 
years ago ; and teachers of experience and more extended 
information are needed for their training. Hence he who 
aspires to be successful in this vocation must be up and 
doing, not content to sit by the roadside an uninterested 
spectator while the grand procession moves on; he must 
fall into the line and march. He must keep up with 
new books and new systems. The mind of a teacher 
must be a fountain, not a reservoir of knowledge, — the 
pure stream must gush from the overflowing depths of 
his own being, not be drawn up with rope and bucket 
from the moss-grown wells of antiquity alone. His own 
spirit must be breathed into the worn text-book, and its 
hidden characters made to glow with new meaning. 

It can not be too forcibly impressed upon the mind 
of a teacher, in his efforts for success, that the duty of 
habitually and systematically caring for the health of 
pupils should be rigidly fulfilled. When the hours allot- 
ted to the duties of the school-room are over the seasons 
set apart for recreation should not be infringed upon. 
The urgent necessity for physical exercise and mental 
relaxation must be apparent to all. 

There is nothing in the life of a teacher, when thus 
properly regulated, that needs be prejudicial to health 
or longevity. 

I have referred to a time when, owing to the constant 
self-imposed strain upon mind and body, my health so 
utterly failed that I was compelled to pause in a career 
hitherto happily successful, and use every available 
means for my restoration. After that a part of every 
vacation was invariably spent in seeking recreation, — 
sojourning sometimes amid mountain scenery, sometimes 
upon the sea -shore, or at some quiet watering-place, 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 483 

among cheerful friends and agreeable surroundings. 
When I left home I left all care behind me, and sought 
only enjoyment. The result was, renewed energy and 
health. 

Science Hill is now the center of my thoughts and 
the subject of my daily prayers. Many a pure joy has 
blossomed here. For more than fifty years I have lived 
and worked in this spot hallowed by a thousand tender- 
est associations. 

For its advertising the institution has depended to a 
great extent upon the friendly interest of its pupils, hav- 
ing but seldom published in the newspapers. The living 
stream grows wider as it flows onward, and in not a few 
instances we find in its catalogues three successive gen- 
erations of the same name and blood. 

The internal economy of the school is not unlike that 
of a well-ordered college. 

Our school has grown up, like a tree, by slow and 
gradual increase. The wise and patient system of finan- 
cial economy pursued under the direction of my husband 
gradually increased our prosperity, and gave ample op- 
portunity of supplying all the helps requisite for our 
success. 

The enthusiastic regard and reverence which our 
pupils entertained for Mr. Tevis is the highest encomium 
which could be paid him. They feared him, but not 
half so much as they loved him ; they knew that he was 
their friend — great-hearted and true. 

It would seem that his manifold labors as a minister 
of the Gospel were enough to exhaust the energies 
of any ordinary man. But in the midst of these he gave 
much of his time to teaching, besides attending closely 
to the business affairs of the school. Whatever his hand 



484 Julia A. Tevis. 

found to do he did, never deferring till to-morrow what 
should be done to-day. He found time to pray with the 
sick and dying and to attend to the wants of the poor 
always. The Bible was his guide in this respect as in 
all others. 

During his life there went forth more than two 
thousand who had knelt under the hallowed influence 
of his prayers and treasured up his words seasoned by 
divine grace — for he was taught of God. Many of these 
yet live and come often to revisit the place where once 
they listened with reverential attention to the teachings 
of its patron saint. They gather like children about an 
old home — 

"Returning from life's weariness, tumult, and pain, 
Rejoiced in their hearts to be school-girls again." 

Their kindly visits make many a green spot in the 
Wintery scenery of my life. 

On the 25th of March, 1875, we celebrated the fiftieth 
anniversary of the founding of Science Hill Female 
Academy. I subjoin a letter published in the Western 
Christian Advocate, as also a communication from a cor- 
respondent of the Shelby Sentinel, as sufficiently descrip- 
tive of the occasion, — 

A TEACHER'S SEMI-CENTENNIAL. 

[Western Christian Advocate.] 

The Semi-centennial of Science Hill Academy was celebrated 
at Shelbyville, Kentucky, March 25, 1875. Mrs. Julia A. Tevis, 
founder of this far-famed school, and its principal for fifty years, 
opened her house on that day to welcome her old pupils, who, 
going out from their school-life, have been scattered over more than 
half the States of the Union, and number over three thousand 
persons. Some three hundred came, representing every class from 
1825 until now. Of those present at the opening of the school, fifty 
years ago, but four are now living, two were present — Mrs. Agnes 
Ross and Mrs. Martha Redding. Many grandchildren of the first 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 485 

pupils are now in the school, and some of the third generation are 
already graduated. It was a scene of rare interest to behold 
the woman of more than threescore years, with daughter and 
granddaughter, coming to greet the noble woman who had taught 
them all. Hundreds of congratulatory letters and telegrams were 
received from those who could not be present in person. An old 
lady of Wytheville, Virginia, seventy years of age, writes like the 
school-girl of half a century ago: "I know Miss Julia Ann would 
like to have me present on the 25th, for I was one of her very first 
pupils in the little school of fifty-five years ago." 

At twelve o'clock the parlors were thrown open, and seated 
upon a dais Mrs. Julia A. Tevis, the venerable founder and prin- 
cipal of the school, received the congratulations of her former 
pupils. Thronging memories and deep emotions stirred her inmost 
heart at the sight of the old familiar faces, making the tax upon her 
physical strength severe, yet she looked as well, and bore up as 
strongly as at any of her annual class-days of later years. Five 
years beyond the allotted threescore and ten, she was permitted 
still to be actively engaged in teaching, looking back upon fifty-five 
years of eminent success as a teacher, fifty of which were spent in 
this school, without an intermission of a single term. 

At one o'clock the spacious dining-hall was thrown open. Rich 
viands of every description were arranged with the most exquisite 
taste; upon several tables fruits and flowers vied with each other 
in lending charm to the scene. To Mrs. Dr. Tevis all honor is due, 
who, as presiding genius of the feast, made us both glad and sorry, 
as we proved our full appreciation of her superior taste and knowl- 
edge in this department. 

After dinner the guests repaired to the Chapel. Mrs. Tevis 
occupied a seat upon the rostrum, with Bishop Foster and Bishop 
Kavanaugh on either side. Over the rostrum were hung large por- 
traits of Mr. and Mrs. Tevis, and above them, in evergreen, the 
inscription, "With joy we greet you." Bishop Kavanaugh opened 
the exercises with prayer. Music, vocal and instrumental, was ren- 
dered by the pupils of to-day. After a short address by Mr. Beck- 
ham, of Shelbyville, Bishop Foster spoke for twenty minutes. In 
concluding, he addressed Mrs. Tevis, presenting her with an elegant 
gold medal, a token of love from her children. It was a scene not 
to be forgotten. 

Mrs. Tevis addressed the audience in a voice which, for that 
occasion, seemed to gather its power of twenty years ago. She 
said, "My emotional feelings, combined with my exhausted strength 
prevent me from taking each and every one of you by the hand, 



486 Julia A. Tevis. 

and bidding you farewell; but I take you all to my heart. My life- 
work was not of my choosing. I followed it from a sense of duty 
until I learned to love it. All has been done with an eye to God's 
glory, and whatever of good has been accomplished has been 
of the Lord." 

Mrs. Speed, daughter of Mrs. Tevis, read, with fine effect, "Sir 
Marmaduke's Toast to his Mother," after which Dr. Speed read a 
beautiful and original poem, upon the same subject. The closing 
exercises, which occupied an hour and a half, and which seemed 
all too brief, passed off delightfully, and reluctantly the guests pre- 
pared for departure. The reunion was a grand success. All were 
"girls again." Snow-crowned seventy and sweet sixteen mingled 
their voices in merry reminiscences of the past and joyous expecta- 
tion of the future, all uniting with one accord in loving homage and 
admiration of her who for more than half a century has devoted 
herself to the advancement and ennobling of woman. The day 
was one of unclouded sunshine. J. D. W. 

MEMORIES OF SCIENCE HILL. 

[Special Correspondence Shelby Sentinel.] 

The morning of March 25th dawned bright and beautiful; and 
how vividly it brought to mind a bright September day, thirty years 
ago, when I was led a trembling little child, into the presence of her, 
whose invitation brought us to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of 
Science Hill. 

Old memories, how thickly they crowded upon us ! We forgot, for 
awhile, the world, its joys and sorrows, reviewed the scenes of other 
days, and wandered hand in hand with companions of childhood's 
happy hours. Then, the world with all its bright allurements was 
as yet a vision to us; ever joyous and free, we danced to the music 
of our own glad hearts, and gathered the blossoms of wisdom and 
love that were strewn o'er our pathway by gentle hands and lov- 
ing voices. 

The shadows and sunshine that have since so fitfully chased 
each other have each left some impress upon our hearts, some 
remembrance of the joys and hopes that may come to us no 
more, but serve to guide our wandering footsteps by the lessons they 
have taught. 

There were many familiar faces; some who started with us; 
some who left us when we were children, but alas ! how many absent. 

But amid all the changes — while each one present like myself 
missed some dear particular friend — our teacher still remains, with 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 487 

the same gentle dignity and pleasant smile we so well remember. 
Year after year I sat beneath her counsel and heard her admonitions; 
how her heart seemed to yearn over us before the commencement 
exercises which scattered "our class" so far and wide. 

Commencement ! yes, of duties, 

Of the many braided strands 
That is only kept from tangle 

By the skill of woman's hands — 
Of waiting days and watching, 

Of long unanswered prayers; 
Beginning of life in earnest, 

With its thousand joys and cares. 

Among the treasures of memory, the following lines from her 
own pen, written just before I left her, have been particularly 
cherished. 

"I dare not omit the opportunity of whispering through this 
silent medium, advice — advice which you shall in coming life per- 
chance look upon, and, in so doing, remember one who always 
loved you, and most heartily desires your welfare, and who would 
fain shield you from those storms of sorrow incident to human life — 
but as that can not be, let me in loving earnestness admonish you to 
place your standard of moral excellence as high as the Scriptures 
direct. Take the Word of God for your counsel, and seek earnestly 
to keep the witness of the Holy Spirit as a testimony of your accept- 
ance — and its enlightening assurance that you are striving to please 
God. Live, as it were, in sight of Calvary — at the foot of the Cross, 
and though you may find thorns enough in life's pathway, yet there 
are sometimes lilies and roses to be gathered in its highways and 
hedges. The eye of your Heavenly Father will be ever on you for 
good if you are faithful to your duty, and the loving Savior will 
never leave nor forsake thee! Be grateful for the blessings you do 
enjoy, and have enjoyed, and hopefully, prayerfully trust for what is 
yet to come." 

The thorns have been many and hard to bear, but the lilies and 
roses have blossomed all along the way, and I trust her counsel for 
higher aid has never been forgotten, and now that many years have 
passed, I would come again as a little child to bring this tribute of a 
grateful heart thankful for all her tender ministries — for words of 
love and gentleness and truth, for longings after a higher and purer 
Avomanhood, and above all, for the example of a life whose influence 
can never be measured, and whose reward can only be meted by 
the Hand from whom all blessinsrs flow. 



488 Julia A. Tevis. 

As the noonday of her life has been made bright by Heaven's 
smiling approbation, may many years and blessings be added to her 
old age, and the evening of her life be crowned with the loving kind- 
ness of a gracious Providence? 

January 26, 1861, at the age of sixty-nine, my hus- 
band was permitted to rest forever from his labors! " He 
giveth his beloved sleep." 

"God moves in a mysterious way." 

How difficult is it to recognize in the death of a cher- 
ished son just entering upon life's duties with noble 
purposes — the idol of home, the pride of the social circle, 
holding all hearts by a magic chain — the loving hand of 
a kind Father ! Ah ! when Rachel weeps for her children, 
who shall comfort her desolate heart? His name was 
interwoven with the interests and affections of all hearts 
in the little world of Shelbyville. All knew and loved 
"John Tevis," all hearts were clouded when he, the 
young and strong, was laid low. 

Who shall say it is easy to utter the submissive, 
"Thy will be done" — easy to drink the bitter cup prof- 
fered to the lips? yet the souls chastened by that mighty 
hand do find consolation. This dear young man "had, 
from a child, known the Holy Scriptures," which, as I 
believe, "made him wise unto salvation, through faith in 
Christ Jesus." He was conscientious, truthful, simple- 
hearted, and high in purpose. He loved God and 
"opened his hand wide to his brother" distressed. He 
seemed to know intuitively when he met the need)', that 
they were objects for his help and ready sympathy. 

This fair young life was cut off from the earth in its 
flushing grace and beauty, just two weeks before his 
father. He escaped the chastenings of the weary three- 
score years and ten allotted as the pilgrimage of many. 



Sixty Years in a School-room. 489 

"As for man, his days are as grass." "But the mercy 
of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting, upon them 
that fear him." 

"Stricken, smitten, and afflicted," now, we shall 
know hereafter why we were called to "pass under the 
rod." My son "sleeps well," and I shall one day see 
him arrayed in the glorious image of the dear risen 
Christ. Amen ! So let it be ! 

Thus sorrowful bereavements have swept away many 
of my heart's brightest jewels. One by one my early 
friends have dropped into the grave, and the outer world 
is changed around me; but the heart does not grow old 
while its life-blood beats in loving sympathy with those 
who are left still clinging to the household tree. As one 
object is removed, the severed tendril takes hold upon 
another. Strange fondness of the human heart, that 
makes us covet length of days for the sake of those 
we love! 

My life seems fast slipping away, but its purposes are 
being accomplished by that good and gracious Providence 
which has guided me all along the journey. I regard 
length of days a blessing, and desire to live for the sake 
of those who are left on earth ; indulging always the glo- 
rious anticipation of a reunion with the departed ones, 
which anticipation gives to this life all its unity, peace, 
and hope. 



FINIS. 






















































% 



o X 









^ - 



























'*, 















c<- 










































\* 
























W 



,0 o 



^ 









.*' 






"<S- 



^V 


















'oO N 























































































<s> .\\ 



